


i know secrets kill you (but my love can fill you)

by tatoeba



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2019-01-23 07:56:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12502568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatoeba/pseuds/tatoeba
Summary: The same day Yifan gets assigned to write an article on the mysterious popular writer Lay, he meets the cute and similarly enigmatic man that frequents the same bar named Zhang Yixing who Wu Fan most definitely does not have a crush on.





	i know secrets kill you (but my love can fill you)

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like every fic I write comes from out of nowhere, but this fic I definitely didn’t expect. It has taken over my mind and soul and life for practically the past three months, but finally, FINALLY, it’s done and it’s here. T__T So yeah, my fic baby. ;~; I really love this fic, I loved writing it even though it hurt, lol, so I very much hope that you’ll enjoy it too. The title comes from the song Secrets by Tears for Fears. Also a special thank you to Annie for looking this over for me ♥ and to everyone on twitter who had to listen to me whine about this for ages. XD Anyway, that is all I have to say, I will go and celebrate that this is finally completed. XD

Yifan slides into his usual seat along the side of his favorite bar. It’s 8:33 on a Wednesday night, and Yifan sighs heavily as he places his leather briefcase and coat on the stool next to him. He only has to wait two minutes before Jongdae pushes a bottle of cold beer in front of him, resting on top of a small squarely-folded napkin.

“Overtime?” he asks, raising a brow as Yifan gulps down nearly half the bottle in one go.

“I’ll be glad when this project is over, that’s all I can say,” Yifan says, and the bottom of the bottle clangs hard against the wooden countertop when Yifan slams it down, a little harder than he means to. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna need another one of these.”

“Sure,” Jongdae says, but he grabs the bottle and sets it back atop the napkin. “But don’t get my counter all dirty.”

Yifan rolls his eyes as Jongdae slinks away, stopping by a pair of two men a few seats away to refill their drinks. Yifan fishes out a pack of cigarettes and lighter from his coat pocket and easily lights up, the heady drag quickly helping to calm his nerves. It’s been a very long week, and there’s still two more days to go.

“Your crush is here again,” Jongdae says, winking at him as he sets another beer in front of Yifan and pulls out a small metal ashtray for him as well.

Yifan raises a brow at him, sucking on the end of his cigarette for a moment before letting out a long breath. “And, who, exactly would that be?” he asks.

“You say that like you don’t come here to see him every night,” Jongdae says, leaning on his elbows on the counter, and he nods his head over to the end of the bar. Yifan glances down, at the slight man who sits at the very last stool, a notebook open in front of him and a glass of water beside his phone, from which hangs purple earbuds that are stuck into his ears. His face is mostly shielded by dark hair, but he glances up a moment later when Zitao, the other bartender, stops to bring him a beer, and his smile makes Yifan’s heart pound.

“I come here for a drink,” Yifan says, looking away resolutely and willing the heat in his cheeks down.

“Right,” Jongdae says, slowly, giving Yifan a clear look of disbelief. He straightens up and adds, “Well, I’m gonna go work, and leave you to pretend you don’t have a crush on mystery man over there.”

Yifan just narrows his eyes at him as Jongdae snickers and walks away. He sighs, cigarette poised between two longer fingers and he grabs his first beer bottle with his right hand and finishes it off.

He presses the cigarette between his lips again and glances over to the side where the mystery man sits. He’s seen him here every night that he’s been here, and it’s been nearly a year, now that Yifan had been dragged to the bar after his first day at the new office by his colleague Minseok, who insisted this place had a great atmosphere and even better drinks. He was right, and Yifan had fallen in love with the small bar and lounge, with their soft music and occasional live performances, and the quietness of the whole place.

It’s just what he needs after a long day of work, and he’s come by pretty much every night after that. At first he hadn’t even noticed the young man who sits at the end of the bar, but after a few weeks, Yifan realized it was always the same person. He was there before Yifan came in and stayed after Yifan left for the night, and according to Jongdae he only ever ordered a few drinks and spent the evening scribbling in his notebook with his earbuds in.

Yifan finds him interesting. He’s not sure exactly what it is, but the fact that the man seems completely uninterested in the rest of the world, focused on his music and his notebook, pulls at Yifan’s curiosity. He wants to know what he’s writing. He wants to know what he’s listening to, that makes him bob his head slightly up and down at times, or tap his foot against the step on the stool. He wants, more than those things, to know his name.

“You could just go talk to him,” Jongdae says as he comes back around. “Instead of creepily staring.”

Yifan clears his throat, crushes the end of his cigarette into the ashtray. “I don’t stare,” he says, but it’s a complete lie. He finishes off the rest of his second beer, then grabs his wallet and drops Jongdae a few bills.

“See you tomorrow, Yifan,” he says, saluting him with two fingers and making Yifan laugh.

He slides his coat back on and grabs his briefcase, heading out toward the door. He glances back at the end of the bar, where the man sits, a hint of a smile on his face that Yifan just barely catches as he walks by, and he sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Maybe tomorrow.

-

Yifan jerks awake as a familiar voice snaps, “Get up, get up,” and he’s peeking his eyes open just in time to see himself get smacked in the face with a pillow. He groans and turns away and rolls straight off the couch, landing onto the break room floor.

“Ugh,” he groans, carefully picking himself and glaring up at the amused face of his coworker.

“We have a deadline in five hours and you’re sleeping?” Lu Han questions, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’ve been here since five AM and I haven’t had a break all day, I deserve a little nap,” Yifan says, wincing as his neck pops loudly when he shifts it side to side. “And what are you freaking out about? Everything is almost done.”

“ _Almost_ being the key word,” Lu Han says. “We can all sleep when we’ve got the new issue out.” He smacks Yifan in the arm with a rolled up stack of papers. “Now come on, I have to talk to you about something.”

Yifan grabs his suit jacket off the top of the couch and slips it on as he follows Lu Han out the door and down the hall. The office is loud and bustling, even more so than usual with an impending deadline in a few hours. Phones seem to be constantly ringing and the whir of printers add to the office soundtrack. It’s a mess but Yifan is used to it, and for the most part enjoys the thrill of it. He used to work at a small newspaper in his hometown back in China, but this, SM Quarterly, is bigger and brighter and everything he ever wanted.

Yifan likes to write. He used to scribble silly love songs and rap lyrics into the margins of his notebooks back in school. Those turned into short stories, the occasional poem, then random articles he’d write for the town paper but never actually sent in because who would want a seventeen-year-old kid’s musings. And those, in time, turned into real pieces that he submitted to his university’s weekly newspaper, and today he can proudly say he writes fun, compelling, and interesting stories every month for one of the biggest and most reputable magazines in South Korea.

“So what’s this about?” he asks Lu Han, leaning against the wall of Lu Han’s cubicle. He has one too many bubble tea cups lying around across his desk, almost as many as there are stacks of papers. It makes him uneasy because Yifan really likes his working space to be clean and orderly and the longer he stands there the more he will want to tidy up for Lu Han, which he’s sure the older man would only greatly appreciate.

Lu Han shifts around folders for a moment, until he pulls out a manila envelope and hands it to Yifan. “You’ve heard of the really elusive author who goes by the pen name Lay, right?” he asks.

Yifan raises a brow, opening the envelope and pulling out a few sheets. “Yeah, sure,” he says. “I’ve read his stuff.” He says it vaguely, figures Lu Han doesn’t need to know that Yifan is actually in love with Lay’s work, and has every copy of his novels on a shelf back at his apartment. “He’s good.” He shrugs. “What about him?”

“You know how he never does interviews, never goes on talk shows, right? He keeps to himself. Building up that mysterious author facade, or so he always tells me.” Lu Han rolls his eyes.

Yifan stops scanning the papers in front of him, a detailed list of Lay’s works that Yifan already knows by heart, to snap his gaze up at Lu Han. “Wait, you _know_ him?” he asks and hopes he doesn’t sound too intrigued.

Lu Han nods, smiling. “We went to school together,” he says. “And we moved to Korea together. I haven’t talked to him in a few months though. He randomly changes his phone number and calls me when he wants to and--wait, why are you looking at me like that?”

Yifan clears his throat and shakes his head quickly. “Nothing,” he says, willing down the embarrassment that’s burning in his cheeks. “I’m just surprised.”

“Yeah, well we’re good friends,” he says happily. “And he’s finally, _finally_ , after years of begging, agreed to let our magazine do a piece on him.”

Yifan’s eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yup!” Lu Han grins. “And I want _you_ to do it.” He pokes Yifan in the chest.

Yifan gapes at him. Yifan, doing a piece on Lay, his most favorite author, possibly of all time? “But why me?” he questions. “Wouldn’t it be better if you did it?”

“I was going to, but he asked for someone else. It’s probably better that way anyway, since I’ve known him for so long, I’d end up talking about something dumb and tarnishing that mysterious aura he’s got going on,” Lu Han says with a laugh. “But if you don’t want to--”

“No!” Yifan cuts in quickly, startling Lu Han and poor Jongin who is walking by with a pile of papers that fall to the floor. Yifan winces as helps Jongin gather them up, turning to Lu Han and saying, calmly, “I mean, no, it’s fine. I’d love to work on this.”

“Good,” Lu Han says, clapping his hands together. Yifan hands Jongin the last few pages, and offers him an apologetic smile as he rushes away, then stands again. Lu Han points at the envelope in his hands. “All the information should be in there. Since it took so long for him to agree to this, let’s just do this his way. Contact him and meet up, go wherever he feels most comfortable and make it easy on him. He’s a cool guy. I think you’ll like him.”

“Okay,” Yifan says, and he tries to keep his internal delight at this opportunity hidden. “Thanks, Lu Han.”

“Now get to work. We have other things to take care of first before that, don’t forget!” he exclaims, patting Yifan on the shoulder in dismissal.

Yifan nods and heads down the row to the next one over and slides into his chair at his own cubicle on the very end. He pulls out the papers from the envelope and finds Lay’s contact information on the last page, just an email and a phone number.

He shoots off a quick email, heart pounding a little too rapidly in his chest at the prospect of getting to meet and talk to _Lay_ , and sags back into his seat when he’s finished.

He grins at the _message sent_ display on the screen and grins. He can’t wait.

-

“You’re in a good mood,” Jongdae notes as he hands Yifan his usual beer. “Something good happen at work?”

“You could say that,” Yifan replies, grinning around the rim of the bottle as he takes a satisfying swig.

Jongdae eyes him curiously then backs away. “I’m not even going to ask. Your excitement is actually freaking me out.” He puts his hands up before him as if to shield himself and adds, “I like you better broody and strung out.”

“Thanks,” Yifan say, glaring half-heartedly. “It’s nice to know you care.”

Jongdae laughs, dropping his hands and stepping forward so he can lean on the bar. “Okay, fine. I’ll bite. What’s up?”

“Have you heard of the writer Lay? The one no one’s ever interviewed or even seen a photo of or anything?” Yifan asks, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice because if Jongdae realizes how much he likes this guy’s work, he’ll probably never hear the end of it.

Jongdae nods, recognition in his eyes. “Yeah, sure,” he says. “He wrote that one popular novel, _Airport Tears_ or something? They’re making it into a movie.”

“Yeah, that one,” Yifan says, and then, adds irritably, like Jongdae is an idiot, “And it’s _Tears Airport_ , not _Airport Tears_.” When Jongdae blinks at him, he coughs behind a hand and continues, “Well, he’s just agreed to let our magazine do a piece on him.”

“And let me guess,” Jongdae says, grinning widely. “You’re getting to write it.”

Yifan raises his beer bottle in response and laughs before he takes another drink. Ever since Lay had replied to his email earlier that evening, confirming that communicating through email would be best for him at the moment since he’s traveling, and that he was excited to work with one of SM Quarterly’s finest writers, Yifan had pretty much been on cloud nine. The chance to talk to his favorite author, even if it’s just via email, was the best thing to happen to him all year. This, if he did it well, could get him even more recognition as a writer and reporter and bring the magazine more limelight as well.

“Well,” Jongdae says. “I understand why you’re so happy now, seeing how you clearly have a boner for this guy.”

Yifan spits beer down his front as he chokes, eyes widening as Jongdae just laughs loudly at him, never one to pass up an opportunity to ridicule Yifan at his most embarrassing moments. Yifan grabs the napkin on the counter and dabs his his chin. He frowns at the stains he’s left on his white button-down, and then throws the balled-up napkin at Jongdae’s forehead.

“What the fuck makes you even _say_ something like that?” Yifan hisses, uncomfortably aware that there are people staring at him, and Yifan hates being judged for embarrassing moments more than anything.

“It’s pretty obvious, dude,” Jongdae says, taking pity on Yifan and handing him another napkin, before grabbing a wet dish cloth to wipe down the surface of the bar. He brings Yifan another beer, too, and Yifan gratefully thanks him. “You’re a little _too_ excited about just interviewing some writer. It’s your job, you do it all the time.”

“Yeah, but this guy is different,” Yifan says, “and not just because I like his work, okay,” he adds hurriedly when Jongdae opens his mouth, no doubt to poke fun at him again. “He’s never done an interview with anyone before. It’s incredible to even get the opportunity.”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say,” Jongdae says, clearly deciding he’s no longer interested. “Just keep me updated, okay? Maybe your amazing writing skills will help you get into his pants.”

Yifan almost chokes on his drink again. He glares at Jongdae and says, “Shut up, I haven’t even met the guy yet.” He pauses, as a thought strikes him, and looks at Jongdae helplessly, “What if he turns out to be a complete jerk?”

Jongdae laughs, reaching across the counter to pat Yifan’s shoulder. “Then you’ll return to your broody, depressing self and I’ll be able to sleep at night.”

Yifan rolls his eyes, shrugging Jongdae’s hand off him, and Jongdae pulls away with a laugh. Just as Yifan opens his mouth to reply something witty back, he’s tapped on the shoulder and jumps, startled, as he whirls around and finds a familiar face standing beside him. Familiar, not because Yifan actually knows him; familiar only because Yifan’s seen him everyday for almost a year. It’s the man that sits at the end of the bar, hunched over his notebook with his earbuds in place. Yifan sees them now, the purple cord running up his chest from his pocket before splitting into two and fitting snug into each ear. Close up like this, Yifan sees how young he is, probably no older or younger than himself. His eyes are bright under hair that’s a little rough at the ends, perhaps from dye, and he’s looking at Yifan curiously, a smile tugging at his lips and drawing out a tiny dimple on the right that Yifan’s never noticed before.

He realizes he’s staring when Jongdae coughs surreptitiously behind him, and he clears his throat and says, “Yes?”

“Do you happen to have a pen?” the man asks, and his voice is a little too loud and it makes Yifan cringe. The man blinks at him, like he doesn’t understand the reaction, and Yifan points to his earbuds. He reaches up small hands to his ears and then laughs, softly, the sound rolling pleasantly into the pit of Yifan’s stomach, as he sheepishly grins at Yifan and tugs the earbuds out. “Sorry,” he says. “I forget I put them in sometimes.”

“I-It’s okay,” Yifan says, a little frazzled because he can’t believe this is the mysterious man who’s been sitting just five stools away for a year.

“So,” the man says lightly, and he’s got a nice voice, Yifan thinks, kind and warm, like his smile. “Do you have a pen? Mine just ran out of ink and I never think to bring more than one, and I really need to work on something.”

“I--yeah--sure, um. One second,” Yifan says, hastily turning toward the seat on his left and grabbing a pen out from his briefcase. He holds it out for the other man, who smiles broadly at him and takes it, his fingers brushing gently against Yifan and making his heart beat unnecessarily loud in his chest.

“Thanks!” he says happily. “I’ll be sure to return it.”

“Don’t-Don’t worry about it,” Yifan says dismissively, and watches as the man walks back to his seat, slipping his earbuds back into place and returning to work.

Yifan slowly turns away so he doesn’t get caught staring again, and Jongdae is watching him with an incredibly amused expression on his face. “What?” he snaps, grabbing his drink and downing the rest, mind still spinning a little from finally having talked to the mystery man, after all this time of wanting to and chickening out.

“That was really nice and all, but you could’ve asked for his name, too, since you’ve been whining for a year about how you don’t know it,” Jongdae says, and Yifan stares at him for a long time before he groans, shoulders slumping.

“Go away,” he mumbles and Jongdae, surprisingly, just laughs at him once and does, heading down the bar to see to the other patrons. Yifan glances over to where the man sits and contemplates about going over to talk to him. Really talk to him. The other man had broken the barrier and Yifan could easily bridge the gap now, if he wanted. He just feels a little ridiculous now, after acting so awkwardly towards him when he was just asking to borrow a _pen_. He groans again, rubs at his face, and reaches for the new bottle of beer.

He gets halfway through before the man comes back, sliding Yifan’s pen down before him and says, “It’s Yifan, right?”

Yifan looks up quickly, questions, “Um, how did you-”

The man laughs, and Yifan tries not to think about how beautiful he looks. “It’s written on your pen,” the man says, smirking. “Plus I’ve heard Jongdae call you that a lot over the past year.”

Yifan flushes, hoping against all hope that the man hasn’t heard much else other than his name. “Oh,” he says intelligently and the man laughs again.

“I’m Zhang Yixing,” the man says, and he slips up onto the stool beside Yifan. “Mind if I join you?”

-

**To:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **From:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **Sent:** Friday December 28, 2012 at 7:13 AM

Dear Lay,

Thank you for agreeing to our interview. As requested we can do this via email until your return when it would be best to set up a time to meet in person, if that is alright with you. For now, I've attached a short questionnaire that I would appreciate if you could fill out at your leisure. It’s just some simple background questions such as age, birthplace, etc.

I've read all of your books, and am a big fan, but, as you intended, I don't know anything about you. I’m hoping these simple questions will give me a place to start, and I am looking forward to finding out more. Please let me know if you have any questions. Thank you.

Yifan  
SM Quarterly

 

 **To:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **From:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 _Draft saved:_ Friday December 28, 2012 at 9:34 AM

Yifan, you don't have to sound so professional! I'm just a simple writer and emails are more fun when they're not so stuffy, don't you think? ^_^

Well, I'm answering your questions in this email because I tend to be a little forgetful at times and I'd probably fill out the attached form but forget to send it back or even lose it on my computer somewhere and then I'd have to fear your wrath which Lu Han tells me is very unpleasant. Do you really breathe out fire like a dragon?? (◎_◎;)

Oh right questionnaire!!  
 **Age:** 25

 **Birthplace:** Changsha. Have you been there before? It’s so nice! I haven’t been back in a few years now and I really miss it. We should go there. Can we do that? As part of your special ~interview~?

 **Family:** Is this question really necessary? What do you need to know about my family for? I don’t have any siblings. I’m not married. I don’t have any kids. That I know of...hmm. Okay, no, I don’t. It’s just me, my parents, and my grandparents. ^_^

 **Hobbies:** Hobbies, really? Are you writing an article on a grade schooler? Okay, okay, fine, well. Other than writing, obviously, I like music. I play the guitar, and the piano. I’m not really that great at either since most of my time goes to writing and I haven’t had the chance in months to sit and practice properly. Do you play any instruments Mr. Reporter?

 **School:** I made it through the first two years of university in Beijing but then dropped out. That was where I met Lu Han! When he graduated a year later, we moved here. You can ask him about that if you want to know more!

Oh, that’s all! Good, I was getting tired. It’s hard talking about myself. Maybe that’s why I haven’t done it before. ヘ（´ ω｀）ヘ

Until next time then, Mr. Reporter!

Lay

 

 **To:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **From:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **Sent:** Sunday December 30, 2012 at 8:18 AM

OH NO I FORGOT TO SEND THE EMAIL I'M SO SORRY I HAD IT WRITTEN TWO DAYS AGO. (/ﾟДﾟ)/ 

Please forgive me. m(_ _)m

 

 **To:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **From:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **Sent:** Sunday December 30, 2012 at 10:02 AM

You really are forgetful, huh. It’s okay as long as you don't forget what we’re doing or my name or something like that.

 

 **To:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **From:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **Sent:** Sunday December 30, 2012 at 12:39 PM

I’m not that bad! I think. Wait. Who are you again?? Is this...Yifan? No, wait, it’s Kevin, isn’t it? Kevin!! I can call you Kevin, right?

 

 **To:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **From:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **Sent:** Sunday December 30, 2012 at 12:57 PM

Wait, what, how do you even know about that?

 

 **To:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **From:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **Sent:** Sunday December 30, 2012 at 1:01 PM

 

Lu Han has told me a lot about you, Kevin. (✿◠‿◠)

 

 **To:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **From:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **Sent:** Sunday December 30, 2012 at 1:13 PM

Please don't call me Kevin.

-

“ _What_ exactly have you been telling Lay about me?” Yifan demands Monday morning as he follows Lu Han out of their morning meeting.

“Who me?” Lu Han says, batting his eyelashes innocently, but Yifan knows better. He has only worked here for a year, but a year under Lu Han’s care was quick enough to learn just how deceptive the man really was. The pretty face that Yifan had met the first day was just a facade.

“Yes, _you_ , you devil,” Yifan hisses, and Lu Han laughs loudly in amusement. “ _Kevin_. I studied abroad for _two years_ and you felt the need to mention that I’d picked out a new name to use because it’d be easier.”

“But it’s such a cute name,” Lu Han titters, stopping by Jongin’s desk to pat him on the head and ask him to bring him some coffee. Jongin sighs, but does as he’s told, slipping out of his chair at the large table where he and the other two interns work to head to the break room.

Yifan continues to follow Lu Han around the office, says, “I really hate you, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Lu Han says cheerfully. “And what does it matter if he knows your secret alias, you’re supposed to build a rapport, you can’t expect him to tell you things about himself and not give a _little_ back. It’s his first time doing this, remember?”

“I don’t mind telling him things about me, I mind when _you_ do it _for_ me,” Yifan says. “What else have you told him?”

“Not much,” Lu Han says, voice light and airy and he waves a hand around him like it’s none of his concern. When he catches Yifan’s glare, though, he stops, heaving a big sigh, and leans against the side of Minseok’s cubicle wall. “Really! I just told him a little about your background because he wanted to make sure some dope wasn’t writing this article about him.” He grins. “Since he’s replied to you, clearly he doesn’t think you’re a dope!”

“Yay me,” Yifan says dryly, even though that actually does make him kind of happy, a slinking giddiness spreading in his tummy.

Lu Han pokes him in the chest and says, “I know you’re happy. I hear you’re a fan.”

Yifan stares at him and groans. “Have you talked to Jongdae?” he asks and Lu Han cackles.

“Minseok and I went down there Saturday night,” he says and Yifan really hates his life. “Jongdae was very informative.”

“I need a new job. And new friends. And clearly a new place to drink beer.”

Lu Han pats him on the shoulder and says, “Not until you finish this article,” and then shoos him off with another wave of his hand.

Yifan groans again but leaves, heading down the aisle toward the break room to get his own mug of coffee. Jongin and Sehun are clattering about, fighting over the leftover donuts that Junmyeon had brought in for their meeting that morning. They straighten up when Yifan walks in, but he just gives them a small smile, which makes them both relax. He grabs a mug from the cupboard above the sink and fills it from the pot on the counter, then picks out one donut from the box and leaves, laughing to himself as he hears Sehun whine that that was the one he wanted, and Jongin snickering about him too slow.

In the comfort of his own cubicle, Yifan checks his email to see if Lay has written back to him yet. He hasn’t, just a message from Baekhyun about a piece he’s been working on that he wanted Yifan’s help with. He just marks it as unread, figures he’ll go over and talk to him later about it in person, and then slumps back against his seat, taps his fingers across his desk.

The difficult part, Yifan’s started to realize, about writing an article on Lay is the fact that there is no information anywhere about him. The only place he can get it is from Lay himself, and when Lay isn’t replying to his emails, there is really only so much Yifan can do.

He brought two of his favorite books from home with him to review, so he pulls the collection of short stories entitled _Unicorn Blessings_ and flips to his favorite. It’s been awhile, and if he’s going to be writing a piece about Lay, he thinks he should re-familiarize himself with his work while he waits.

-

“I almost didn’t think you were going to show up today,” Yixing says, sliding into the seat beside Yifan not ten minutes after Yifan arrived at the bar.

“I’m here everyday,” Yifan says, flushing a little in surprise that Yixing came to talk to him so quickly.

“Not on the weekends,” Yixing points out, which Yifan supposes is true for the most part. At least, he didn’t stop in this past weekend. “I missed you the past two days.”

Yifan _really_ hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels. “You missed me?” he repeats. “We don’t even know each other that well for you to feel that way.”

Yixing smiles at him, drawing out the dimple that Yifan saw numerous times during the night last week when they talked for the first time and kept on thinking how cute it was. He has a nice smile, he thinks, but tries desperately not to stare. “Aw, don’t be like that,” Yixing says, teasingly. “I’ve seen you here the past year, just like I’m sure you’ve noticed me. And we’re really the only two people who come in every day, so it’s like we share a bond already, don’t you think?”

Yifan snorts because that’s really some strange logic, and he tries not to think about how Yixing apparently has noticed him the way Yifan has. He busies himself with a drink from his beer bottle, then licks his lips and replies, “Well, if you say so.”

“I do,” Yixing says, and he’s got this brightness to his eyes that reminds Yifan of the way Lu Han gets right before he does something to make Yifan’s life incredibly miserable. He hopes Yixing isn’t quite like that. “And what I say goes.” He laughs.

“Oh really?” Yifan says, laughing back, and Yixing nods insistently. Yifan shakes his head in amusement and takes another sip of his beer as Yixing turns quickly to his notebook beside him to scribble something down within its pages. Now that he’s sitting right beside him, Yifan sees that it’s a nice, leather-bound book with a drawstring to wrap around to keep it closed. It’s expensive looking, the kind one would buy from a really good bookstore instead of spending less than a buck at a local convenience store. He tries not to stare too obviously, but he can see it’s over half filled with writing.

He wonders, not for the first time, what Yixing writes about, but he’s pretty sure it’s too soon to ask. Instead, he says, focusing on what Yixing had mentioned before, “You're right, you know, I have noticed you.” He chuckles when Yixing quickly looks up at him, blindly tucking his pen inside the notebook and closing the cover. “I've wanted to talk to you for the longest time.”

Yixing asks, “Then why haven't you?”

“Sitting in the corner with your earbuds in? Kind of antisocial, isn’t it?” Yifan replies, raising a brow, and Yixing laughs, nodding in understanding. He reaches for his glass that is now mostly water-downed alcohol and tiny slivers of ice and swirls them around before finishing off the rest. Yifan watches him closely, adds, “I figured you weren't looking for conversation. I was just curious about you though.”

Yixing smiles at him. “Maybe I was just waiting for you to come talk to me,” he says.

“ _Right_ ,” Yifan says, rolling his eyes in skepticism.

“Well, why not?” Yixing huffs in protest, but his eyes are sparkling in mirth. “Who _wouldn't_ want the tall attractive blonde to come talk to them at a bar?” He winks at Yifan who feels his face heat up again. “You should've bought me a drink, I hear that’s an easy icebreaker in a place like this.” He grins widely, dimple showing again, and Yifan finds him so incredibly intriguing, even more than before when Yixing was just that nameless man who sat at the end of the bar every night. He didn’t think it was possible to find one person so interesting, but with almost every word that Yixing says, Yifan just wants to know more.

Yifan stares at him for a long moment, considering, and Yixing just blinks back, looking at him with a sort of blank expression on his face, even though his eyes feel like they’re burning into his soul. He smiles back at him and suggests airily, “Maybe I should buy you one right now.”

“Maybe you should,” Yixing agrees happily. “I _would_ love a beer.” He blinks up at Yifan expectantly, and Yifan sighs exaggeratedly, like this is a huge inconvenience, but then orders another round of beers when Jongdae stops by and Yifan dutifully ignores the giant smirk Jongdae gives him as he leaves. “But,” Yixing adds as he reaches for his bottle, “don’t think just because you bought me a drink you can take me home or something.”

Yifan splutters, hastily wiping at his chin with a napkin as he stares at Yixing incredulously. Yixing just laughs at him, the sound more pleasant than the soothing voice of the live singer up on the tiny stage. “You should see your _face_ ,” Yixing comments, incredibly amused, and Yifan feels his ears grow hot.

“You’re terrible,” Yifan mutters, which only has Yixing laughing even harder. It makes his eyes curve into little crescents, his cheeks dusted pink in mirth, and he hides his mouth with a hand as he giggles. And Yifan, in that moment, thinks he’s possibly never seen anyone quite as beautiful.

-

“How’s it going?” Minseok asks, slipping into Yifan’s cubicle late in the afternoon. “Your secret project.”

“It can’t be that secret if you know about it,” Yifan replies. He peels off the yellow post-it that he’d stuck to the back of his copy of Lay’s _Unicorn Blessings_ and presses it against the page where he’s been reading, then sets the book onto the desk.

Minseok grins at him, leaning carefully back against the flimsy wall, crossing arms over his chest. “It was supposed to be a secret, but Lu Han doesn’t actually know how to keep one,” Minseok says with a roll of his eyes. “He’s too excited about the prospect of having our magazine be the first ever to interview Lay.” He smirks at Yifan. “Probably even more excited than you are to actually talk to him.”

Yifan groans. “Does everyone know about that?”

“You forget I was there with Lu Han when Jongdae told us all about it,” Minseok says, and he laughs and pats Yifan on the back good-naturedly when Yifan groans again. “Relax, there’s nothing wrong with having a crush.”

“It’s not a _crush_ ,” Yifan hisses, because it’s _not_. “How can I have a crush on a guy I’ve only talked to about four times? And only through email?” He huffs and drops his gaze to the stack of books on his desk. “I’m just very fond of his work.”

Minseok makes a very skeptical noise, and laughs again when Yifan swivels around his chair to aim a kick at him. “So you haven’t met him in person yet?”

Yifan shakes his head, hoping that the disappointment doesn’t show on his face. “He’s traveling, I guess, and the emailing works pretty well, when he remembers to reply that is.” He smiles at little at the memory of how he had to send two reminder emails to Lay the other night so that he could answer the newest set of questions Yifan had prepared for him. Normally he’d find that sort of thing incredibly infuriating, but Lay’s spastic apologizes and emoticon-filled emails are somehow really...endearing.

“That is a really creepy look you have on your face right now, I hope you realize,” Minseok says and Yifan quickly schools his expression into one that (he hopes) is of indifference. Minseok just looks at him in amusement. “Are you sure you don’t have a crush? Because that’s the kind of look Jongin gets when he talks about Sehun, except on Jongin it’s not nearly as frightening.”

“Shut up,” Yifan says, but it doesn’t sound very threatening and Minseok knows him too well to be affected by it. “Why are you even bothering me? I have important work to do.”

“Mmhm,” Minseok says, “you’re just reading Lay’s work for the hundredth time.”

“This is _research_ ,” Yifan insists. “And besides, there’s only so much I can do when I’m waiting around for his emails. There’s no information on the guy anywhere.”

“Maybe you’re not looking hard enough,” Minseok says pointedly, and Yifan sits up straighter in his chair, stares at him. Minseok stares back for a long moment, then sighs and adds, “Come on, the guy is a famous writer! You don’t just publish books out of thin air. _Someone_ has read his work. _Someone_ knows him. And I don’t mean like Lu Han who just got lucky that his close friend became a famous writer.”

Yifan blinks. Why hadn’t he thought of this?

As if reading his mind, Minseok smirks and says, “I think your little crush is getting in the way of your work, Yifan,” and laughs when Yifan kicks him, quite literally, out of his cubicle.

“Thanks!” he shouts after him, sees Minseok waving a hand up at him as he disappears down the aisle. Yifan slumps back into his seat and flips open the top of his laptop, quickly pulling up the website for Lay’s publishing company.

A few clicks and he’s found a familiar name that he’s seen written in the dedication for Lay’s very first two works. He jots down the name and address of the publishing company onto a post-it, then grabs his coat from the tiny closet beside his cubicle. He pats the inside breast pocket to make sure he has his small notepad, then grabs the post-it with the address and heads out.

-

Do Kyungsoo is a small man with a perpetually shocked expression on his face, but has a kind presence to him that Yifan instantly likes. He's been in this business long enough to have dealt with his fair share of frazzled editors and agents who only seem to live on a constant clock of deadlines.

Kyungsoo lets him into his office and brings him a mug of coffee that Yifan gratefully accepts, then sits back in his seat behind a small, paper covered desk and asks, “So you're here about Lay?”

“Yes,” Yifan says. “I’m sure you know that he agreed to let our magazine do an interview with him.”

Kyungsoo nods. “He asked me about it and I said yes, because it was the first time he showed any interest in the idea,” he says. “He liked the whole mysterious writer persona, and to be honest, so did I. It made people more interested in his work, which is always good for business.” He laughs and Yifan smiles in return. “I’m not sure what you want from me, though.”

“Well, it’s always important to conduct interviews with close friends or family,” Yifan says easily, drawing out his notepad and pen from his coat pocket. “Since Lay is very private about that part, I was hoping you could help with some tidbits. What kind of person is he? Do you like working with him? Any interesting stories you’d like to share?”

Kyungsoo makes a noise of contemplation, leaning back more comfortably in his chair. "I've known Lay for a few years now. We met a year before he released his first book," Kyungsoo says, a soft gaze in his eyes like he's recalling a fond memory. "He was 20 at the time? He was trying to publish a short story. He was really persistent.” Kyungsoo laughs. “But he was still developing his skills. He was good, just not quite there yet and I wanted to help. We met a lot in the beginning and he had so many ideas, he would just keep throwing them all out. It was refreshing to see. He's a lot of fun."

Yifan smiles, feeling warm just listening to him, a little part of him inexplicably happy that Lay isn’t some terrible human being who just happens to write beautiful things. From the way Kyungsoo talks about him, it’s clear that Lay is a nice, kind person. Yifan, now more than ever, really wishes he will be able to meet him.

He spends nearly an hour there, listening to Kyungsoo tell him about Lay's little quirks, how he's always late with deadlines but he's so apologetic and mortified by it that it’s impossible to be angry with him, how he likes to drag Kyungsoo to bars or cafes so he can talk to him directly when he's stuck and ask for his opinions, how he spends days poured over research books and forgets to eat and even shave and will call Kyungsoo at three in the morning when he has a breakthrough.

Lay likes to listen to classical music and falls asleep on the phone while Kyungsoo talks to him about deadlines. He enjoys sweet things and doodling little figurines in the corners of his manuscripts. He likes to spend time with a close friend of his from college, which Yifan assumes is probably Lu Han. And he has a penchant for things with unicorns on them.

Yifan fills his notepad with pages of information, finding every new bit just as intriguing as the last. Lay, to Yifan, seems suddenly so much more than a writer he's incredibly infatuated with, and now a person who is just as every bit interesting as the stories he writes. He leaves Kyungsoo with his business card, welcoming him to let him know anything else if he so wants, and then returns to the office.

With all his new information, along with the emails he has from Lay already, Yifan finally feels like he can begin to write.

-

The soft strains of a guitarist greets Yifan as he stumbles into the bar from the cold, tugging off leather gloves and unrolling a scarf from around his neck. It’s fairly empty that night, which Yifan always appreciates, and he heads off to the bar automatically, the way he does everyday.

Except today, he catches sight of Yixing huddles in his chair at the very end of the counter, and, on impulse, changes direction to head towards him. He drops his bag and coat into the seat two away from Yixing and then slides into the one between them. Yixing doesn’t seem to even notice he’s there, head bowed over his usual notebook with his headphones tucked into his ears.

Zitao stops by to bring Yifan a beer, and he smiles his thanks at him, then turns to poke Yixing in the shoulder to get his attention.

Yixing jumps, startled, and whirls around quickly. His expression softens when he realizes it’s Yifan, and he smiles at him kindly. “Hello,” he says, a bit too loudly, and Yifan laughs, points at his ears.

“What’re you listening to?” he asks as Yixing sheepishly pulls one earbud out. He blinks at it, then holds it out for Yifan, who has to crouch just a little to share it and not tug the other from Yixing’s own ear. A beautiful orchestral piece fills his ear and he asks, “What’s it called?”

Yixing taps the screen on his phone and thrusts it up into Yifan’s face, a little too close that Yifan has to lean back so he doesn’t go cross-eyed trying to read it. _Symphony No. 40_ by Wolfgang Mozart, it reads, and he mouths the words trying to say it properly and Yixing laughs at him again.

“It’s Wolfgang Mozart,” he says with clear pronunciation and Yifan blinks at him, surprised.

“It’s nice,” he says. “Are you interested in this kind of music?”

“That is why I’m listening to it,” Yixing replies cheekily. “But yes, it also helps me think, focus on work.” He smiles. “I grew up with this kind of music. I play the piano, you know.” He says it a little proudly, and Yifan grins at him.

“Ah, the mysterious man at the bar has hidden talents!” he says, and Yixing half-heartedly punches him square in the shoulder.

“Give that back,” he huffs, tugging the cord out of Yifan’s ear, but instead of sticking it back into his own, he taps his phone again and turns off the music, wraps the cord around it and sets it back down onto the bar counter. Then he turns to Yifan fully and says, “Nice to see you again tonight.”

“You say that like you don’t know I will be here,” Yifan says.

“Well, it’s never good to assume,” Yixing says knowledgeably. “Maybe someday you’ll find a much cooler bar with better drinks and bartenders who don’t stop and eavesdrop and then you’ll leave me all alone.” He says it very over-dramatically, and giggles when Jongdae shouts “Hey!” from the other end of the bar, clearly having overheard.

“The bartender part is definitely good reason,” Yifan agrees, but then adds, resolutely keeping his eyes on his beer bottle, “but the company here is worth it.”

And when he chances a look at Yixing, he has a big, bright grin on his face that makes Yifan’s heart thump impossibly loud in his chest in a way that it hasn’t in a very, very long time. He’s not sure what it means, so he looks away quickly, flushing deep down his neck and Yixing’s laughter rings happily in his ears, the sound as melodious as the music he’d been listening to earlier.

“You’re really cute,” Yixing says, matter-of-fact, and Yifan wishes that everything about Yixing didn’t make him feel so completely off-balance.

He distracts himself with a slow drink from his bottle and Yixing shifts his attention back to his notebook, and Yifan can just barely see him filling a few lines with text before he closes the cover.

"So, Yifan, how was your day?" Yixing says, leaning his elbow on the counter and his chin on his palm. He stares at Yifan with a soft, intriguing look in his eyes.

Yifan clears his throat, always so surprised by the way Yixing looks at him like there's nothing else in the world more interesting. It makes butterflies flutter in his stomach and his chest a little warm. He smiles at Yixing, leans back against his seat and says, "Pretty good, actually." He takes a swig of his beer and his grin widens as he thinks back over the day. "I learned a lot about Lay."

"Really?" Yixing says, and he sits up a little straighter. "Do tell."

"Ah, you're just gonna have to wait for the article in the magazine like everyone else," Yifan says, holding up his bottle toward him and winking.

Yixing pouts at him, and Yifan tries not to stare at his pink lips. "Unfair," he whines, childishly, and it's really cute.

Yifan laughs. "I just met his editor," he says, "and he told me some interesting things. It's hard to learn everything that I want just through email, so I thought this would give me some information."

"Good plan," Yixing says with a tiny smirk.

"But enough about me, what about you?" Yifan says, and he mimics Yixing's posture, resting his chin on his palm. "Everyday you ask about me but never talk about yourself."

And its true. Yixing has this way about him that makes him easy to talk to and he’s always so curious, hanging onto Yifan's every word. He laughs when Yifan says something funny, pokes fun at his moments of weakness or stupidity, and engages in conversation in a way that makes Yifan _want_ to tell him more. But now Yixing knows where he works, past articles he's worked on, bits and pieces of his hometown in China, and even what part of Seoul he lives in, but Yifan doesn't know much about him.

He stares him down and says, "You know you can't maintain that mysterious bar facade forever."

Yixing laughs at that and says, "I suppose not." He takes a drink from his beer bottle. “There’s not much to say, really,” he say after a long stretch of silence. “My life isn’t as interesting as yours.”

Yifan doesn’t believe that one bit, because someone as interesting as Yixing himself couldn’t possibly live a life any less. “Well, don’t tell me you sit here all day just waiting for me to come by every night.”

Yixing rolls his eyes, elbows him slightly in the side and says, “ _No_. I see enough of this place as it is.” He grins. “I’m what you could call a starving artist? Maybe not so much on the starving side, but I write for a living.”

“So you’re not just scribbling things into the notebook for fun, huh?” Yifan asks, nodding towards the leather bound book that Yixing has been unconsciously tapping his fingertips across while speaking.

“This isn’t really work, just random ideas that pop up in my head. Notes about people I meet or things I see,” Yixing says, and he glances down at the book a little fondly.

“Am I in there?” Yifan says before he can stop himself.

“Oh, _yes_ , there’s pages about the pretty blonde boy I met at the bar,” Yixing says, and he says it so lightly that Yifan can’t tell if he’s telling the truth or not.

“What kind of things do you write?” Yifan questions, even more intrigued about Yixing than he was before. “We do the same thing for a living and you never mentioned it before?”

Yixing smiles enigmatically at him, eyes soft in amusement. “I’m still trying to keep that mysterious aura around me, no matter how much you try to break it,” he says, and laughs when Yifan frowns at him.

“Does that mean you’re not going to tell me what you write?” he says, and Yixing pokes him on the tip of his nose and says, “Cute _and_ smart,” and Yifan swats his hand away, feeling a blush creep up the back of his neck.

Words fail him from the delighted look on Yixing’s face, so he just huffs and turns away and tries not to think too much about what Yixing said and how it makes his heart thump pleasantly against his chest.

-

**To:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **From:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **Sent:** Thursday January 3, 2013 at 10:23 AM

Yifan, I’m so sorry it takes me ages to write you back, I really hope you don’t find me completely useless! I’m just not accustomed to this sort of thing, so I guess I’m still trying to get the hang of it. (^^;)

I hear you met up with Kyungsoo! I hope he didn’t tell you anything _too_ embarrassing? You’re not going to embarrass me with this article are you? I mean, I’ve worked very hard to build up this enigmatic image and I’d hate for some random blonde-haired journalist to ruin it!!

I could sue you, I’ll have you know.

 

 **To:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **From:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **Sent:** Thursday January 3, 2013 at 10:35 AM

I have no plans on embarrassing you. At least, not _really_ , but you can’t blame me for doing my job if a rather questionable story or two gets included in the article now, can you?

And how did you know I was blonde?

 

 **To:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **From:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **Sent:** Thursday January 3, 2013 at 10:57 AM

I don’t know how to tell you this but...

I’m psychic.

 

 **To:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **From:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **Sent:** Thursday January 3, 2013 at 11:18 AM

Okay, okay I’m not psychic!! You don’t have to ignore me! （；ω；）

 

 **To:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **From:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **Sent:** Thursday January 3, 2013 at 11:48 AM

I wasn’t ignoring you, I was just in a meeting. And it’s a good thing you’re not psychic, because then we’d have to be conducting a completely different kind of interview.

And, if you’re not psychic, how did you know?

 

 **To:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **From:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **Sent:** Thursday January 3, 2013 at 11:55 AM

Your picture is on the magazine’s website.

You’re cute. (¬‿¬)

 

 **To:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **From:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **Sent:** Thursday January 3, 2013 at 12:12 PM

That emoticon is really creepy.

And it’s kind of unfair that you know what I look like but I still have no idea what you look like, don’t you think?

 

 **To:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **From:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **Sent:** Thursday January 3, 2013 at 12:17 PM

Not really, because everyone knows what you look like and no one is supposed to know what I look like. :P

 

 **To:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **From:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **Sent:** Thursday January 3, 2013 at 12:21 PM

Your editor knows what you look like. Lu Han, too.

 

 **To:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **From:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **Sent:** Thursday January 3, 2013 at 12:24 PM

Ask Lu Han for a picture then.

 

 **To:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **From:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **Sent:** Thursday January 3, 2013 at 12:28 PM

I’d rather just meet you in person.

 

 **To:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **From:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **Sent:** Thursday January 3, 2013 at 12:44 PM

Don’t worry, Yifan, you will. (⌒ω ⌒)

-

“What’re you creepily staring at your phone for?” Chanyeol demands around a mouthful of food as he and Yifan grab lunch at the burger place around the corner from the office.

“Nothing,” Yifan says quickly, trying to shove his phone into his pocket, but Chanyeol’s is faster, reaching out to swipe it from his hands.

Chanyeol scrolls down his email and slowly starts snickering, twisting his body around and away as Yifan flails across the table to grab it back. “Aww,” he coos, “how nice. He called you cute! Aren’t you happy?”

“Give me that,” Yifan hisses, and Chanyeol, surprisingly, does, handing it back since he’s seen enough.

“Are you sure you’re conducting yourself professionally, Yifan?” Chanyeol questions, a giant grin on his face that makes him look a little insane. He dips a french fry into ketchup and pops it into his mouth. “Those emails looked a little too... _intimate_.”

Yifan chokes on his drink and gives Chanyeol what he hopes is an unimpressed look. “Don’t be stupid,” he says. “He’s just an easy guy to talk to. I mean, he’s only a year younger than me! I was so surprised when I found that out.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” Chanyeol asks and Yifan kicks him under the table. “What?!” he exclaims. “It’s a legitimate question given your crush on the guy.”

“Will none of you ever let that go?” Yifan groans, dropping his face into his hands. “It’s not a crush. I still haven’t even met him, and I have a feeling he’s going to make it very difficult for me to do so.”

“Poor Yifan,” Chanyeol mourns solemnly, shaking his head. “Cockblocked by his own crush.”

“I fucking hate you,” Yifan hisses, throwing a french fry at Chanyeol’s head. It bounces off his nose and falls onto Chanyeol’s tray and Chanyeol just grins and shoves it into his mouth. Yifan sighs, shoulders slumping, and he grabs his half-eaten burger to take another bite.

“In all seriousness though,” Chanyeol starts after a stretch of silence.

“Are you capable of being serious?” Yifan questions, raising a brow at his friend, and Chanyeol narrows his eyes at him.

“ _In all seriousness_ ,” he repeats, “what do you think of him? Is he what you pictured?”

Yifan straightens his back, takes another bite of his burger and chews thoughtfully. Chanyeol stares at him, sucking the straw of his drink into his mouth, big eyes blinking curiously. Eventually, he says, “I don’t really know what I was expecting, to be honest. Maybe someone a little more...put-together? He’s terrible at replying to emails and he seems more interested in poking fun at me than actually answering any of my questions. And he uses way too many stupid emoticons.” Yifan dutifully doesn’t mention that all these things he finds kind of, well, _endearing_ , to say the least. He’d definitely expected Lay to be a serious, straight-laced sort of person who would be easy to work with, but the reality is the complete opposite. At first it was rather jarring, but Yifan has come to look forward to Lay’s unpredictableness, his straightforward approach, and his tendency to make Yifan feel completely ridiculous with just a few simple words in an email.

Lay, Yifan has realized, is fun and charming and kind of cute. With his emoticons and his frazzled apologizes and his way of making Yifan feel like this is less of a work project and more like he’s just talking with a friend. The more they send each other emails the more Yifan starts to see Lay the way Kyungsoo had described him; an easy going person with a clear passion for writing and a penchant for making people like him really easily.

With every new email, Yifan only wants to meet him more.

He sighs, grabs his phone and pulls up Lay’s latest email. He thinks for a moment and then types up a response.

  
**To:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **From:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **Sent:** Thursday January 3, 2013 at 1:37 PM

You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?

Chanyeol tries to peer across the table to see what’s he’s typing, but Yifan quickly sends off the message before he gets the chance. He pouts at him, cheeks puffed up a little with food, and Yifan rolls his eyes.

“Leave me alone,” he says before Chanyeol gets the chance to say something stupid or potentially embarrassing.

“I wasn’t going to say anything!” Chanyeol protests, holding up his hands, but the amusement in his eyes gives him away.

Yifan just makes a skeptical noise and returns to eating his lunch, mostly ignoring Chanyeol’s incessant chatter. When they return to the office, Yifan slips away toward Lu Han’s desk, leaning over the wall and asking, “Why won’t Lay meet with me?” Normally he would hate how much it sounds like he’s whining, but he’s really curious now so he doesn’t care.

Lu Han laughs, not even turning around to look at him as he types furiously on his laptop. “Did you do something to scare him off?” he asks.

“Of course not!” Yifan says, slightly offended by the accusation. “I’ve been great. So has he, really. He’s cool. But he doesn’t seem interested in actually meeting up. It’d be so much easier to do an interview in person.”

“Ah, because that’s _totally_ the reason you want to meet him, isn’t it?” Lu Han says, and he finally swivels around to look at Yifan. He’s got a big smirk plastered on his face. “For _work_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Yifan says firmly, not willing to let anyone else badger him about his not-crush. He’s gotten enough of that from Chanyeol today already. “Can’t you at least talk to him about it? I mean, you’re his friend and all.”

Lu Han purses his lips thoughtfully, blinking up at the ceiling as he exaggeratedly ponders, and Yifan resists the urge to roll his eyes at him, instead waits patiently. Finally, Lu Han shrugs and says, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Yifan sighs, returning to his desk and not feeling much hope at all. When he checks his email again, he finds a reply from Lay that makes a smile grow across his face, and thinks, maybe, that it’s okay just like this.

**To:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **From:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **Sent:** Thursday January 3, 2013 at 2:14 PM

Now, where would the fun be in that? ;)

-

“It’s like I haven’t talked to you in _years_ , now that you’ve been so cozy with your mystery man,” Jongdae complains, greeting Yifan as he slinks into his usual seat. Yifan would have gone down to join Yixing at the end of the bar but, for once, the other man isn’t there. It makes a slight uneasiness slink into his chest, and he pushes it away to roll his eyes at Jongdae.

“I talk to you everyday,” Yifan says.

“Not the way you used to,” Jongdae replies. “You spend all evening laughing with Yixing instead and ignoring me.”

“He’s not as annoying as you,” Yifan says, smirking.

“But _I’m_ the one who brings you the alcohol,” Jongdae says, holding a bottle of beer just out of Yifan’s grasp. Yifan narrows his eyes at him and reaches out to grab it, and Jongdae laughs as he just backs further away behind the counter until he takes pity on Yifan’s flailing and hands him the bottle. “So, spill. What’s so great about the guy?”

“Why are you so interested?” Yifan questions. “You could talk to the guy yourself.”

“My Mandarin is not nearly as good as your Korean,” Jongdae says, and he looks a little unhappy about the fact, like if he was more well-versed in the language, he would go up and pester Yixing himself. “That’s why Zitao usually gets his order.”

Yifan nods, takes a drink from his beer. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he tells Jongdae with a slight shrug. “I like him?”

Jongdae’s face twists into amusement, a big grin on his face that’s not unlike the one Lu Han had given him back at the office earlier that day. “ _That_ much is obvious,” he says, and Yifan blinks at him.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he demands, even as that earlier unease starts to slink down into his stomach and a flush creeps up the back of his neck.

"Oh, I'm sure you know," Jongdae says with a wink and then wanders off to assist other guests. Yifan wants to drag him back and demand answers when a sudden touch along his back makes him jump.

He looks around to find Yixing, flushed in the face, presumably from the winter cold, and he's sliding into the chair on Yifan's right, his fingertips brushing along his shoulder blades until his hand drops completely to instead unbutton his coat.

"Sorry I'm late," he says with a dimpled smile, and Yifan tries not to focus on the way his body tingles from his touch, skin hot under his clothes.

Yifan laughs, hopes it doesn’t sound as strangled to Yixing as it does to his own ears. “You say that like we plan on meeting here,” he says, amused.

“Well, it’s kind of become that way, hasn’t it?” Yixing replies, shrugging out of his thick coat. He’s wearing a soft blue button down that’s completely undone with a simple white tank underneath. The low scoop of collar reveals the pale skin of his chest and Yifan swallows, taking a drink from his beer, and tries not to focus on how good he looks, how the color of his shirt really suits him.

Instead he says, “I guess you’re right.” He laughs. “Jongdae was just complaining about how I’ve been ignoring him for you.”

Yixing grins. “He’s just jealous.”

“Am not,” Jongdae says fiercely as he stops by and Yixing snickers behind a small hand. “Beer?” Jongdae asks him and Yixing ponders for a bit and ask instead for some soju. Jongdae nods and disappears to get some for him, and Yifan raises a brow.

“Living a little, huh?”

“It’s been a good day,” Yixing says vaguely, and his tone doesn’t leave room for Yifan to ask why. He wants to know so much but it’s like Yixing consistently puts up walls that block him out.

He smiles at himself as he realizes Yixing and Lay have that in common. It’s starting to drive him a bit mad.

Jongdae returns with a bottle of jinro and a small glass, gently setting it down on a square napkin in front of him. Yixing thanks him happily in Korean and Jongdae grins before he heads off to tend to the rest of the bar.

Yixing turns to Yifan after he pours himself the glass and takes a few sips, asks, “So, how was your day? Any progress with Lay?”

Yifan sighs, shoulders slumping. “No,” he says. “Well, _yes_ , technically, because I did talk to him quite a bit, but no because he still won’t let me meet him. I really want to.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t like you,” Yixing says with a laugh, and Yifan smacks lightly at his shoulder in response.

"No, he likes me," Yifan says.

"Pretty confident there, Yifan," Yixing says, "How can you be so sure?"

"If he didn't like me, why waste time emailing me about random things when he could just answer my questions and be done with the whole thing?" Yifan points out. "I'm really glad he didn't do that because it would've made everything so boring." He thinks he's lucky, that Lay is as amiable as he is, because Yifan's had to interview people much worse, who found it a pain to answer his questions and would tell him to make up whatever he wanted, or people who he wouldn't hear back from weeks at a time. Lay maybe a little forgetful and chatty about things unrelated to work, but he keeps things interesting and Yifan really likes that.

Yixing makes a soft noise of thought in response, taking another drink of soju and refilling his glass. Then, he asks, "Are you busy Saturday around noon?"

Surprised, Yifan chokes around his mouthful of beer, eyes widening as he looks at Yixing's completely straight face. "No," he manages to answer, and unsuccessfully tries to calm the rapid beating his heart has picked up. "Why?"

"I want to have lunch with you," Yixing says simply, and he laughs when Yifan gapes at him, jaw dropping. Yixing tilts his head to the side and blinks, soft brown hair falling a little into his eyes, and he asks in a teasing tone that reminds Yifan of whenever Lu Han tells him to do something he knows he won't really like, "Do you not want to?"

And that, Yifan thinks couldn't be _furthest_ from the truth. He quickly shakes his head and says, "No, I...I would really like that. I'm sorry, I’m just surprised." He rubs his palm against the back of his neck, skin a little too hot, and doesn’t quite meet Yixing's pleasant eyes.

"Oh, good," Yixing says cheerfully. "I've been curious to see if you're just as good-looking out of that suit."

If possible, Yifan blushes even more. He doesn't know how to respond, but it seems like Yixing doesn't particularly care. He's smiling as he points wordlessly to Yifans phone that's resting on the counter by his bottle. "Exchanging numbers," he explains, once Yifan nods blankly and he takes it, fingers tapping quickly on Yifan's phone to program himself in. Yifan, throat still a little tight to speak, reaches over to take Yixing's phone and add in his information as well.

They swap their phones back and Yixing grins down at Yifan's information. "I'll call you on Saturday about where we should meet," he says, and then he's slipping off his stool and pulling on his coat again. He turns his grin to Yifan, dimple pronounced in his cheek and eyes so bright Yifan feels a little blinded. "See you then," he says, and his fingers trail up Yifan's right arm softly as he leaves, just as light as when he touched him earlier.

Yifan stares after his retreating figure, mind spinning from the suddenness of everything as he tries to catch up, and he thinks, as he sips on his beer and ignores Jongdae’s questions about why Yixing left so soon, that Chanyeol and Lu Han might have it wrong.

The one he has a crush on is not Lay at all.

-

Not that Yifan would ever admit aloud that he has a crush on _anyone_ because, truthfully, he doesn’t even know if this _is_ a crush. It’s been awhile since Yifan has had time for relationships, even longer still that he’s had any interest in anyone on a personal level. He’s been dragged out by Chanyeol and Baekhyun to some clubs in Seoul and has taken some girls, some guys, home with him but they were almost always gone in the morning.

After moving to Korea, he hasn’t had much interest in looking for anyone to start a relationship with so he doesn’t know if he’s just interested in Yixing as a friend who makes his evenings a little brighter, or if it’s because of the way Yixing smiles at him with his cute dimple and crescent-shaped eyes, and the softness of his voice when he says Yifan’s name, and the fact that he’s like a puzzle that Yifan is constantly trying to figure out keeps Yifan awake at night.

Okay, so maybe Yifan likes him a little. Or a lot. But that doesn’t mean much, really, and he’s trying not to get too wrapped up in it. He focuses on work for all of Friday and definitely not on his impending lunch - date?! - with Yixing the next day.

Saturday morning, he wakes to a cheerful text from Yixing that names a time and place for their lunch, a small American-style cafe a few blocks from the bar they frequent. Yifan spends an agonizingly embarrassing amount of time staring at his closet for something to wear, deciding on a pair of pressed slacks and a button down only to remember Yixing’s words about wanting to see him in something other than suits. So he ends up back in front of his closet for another twenty minutes before settling on dark skinny jeans and a black, long-sleeved sweater with a thick jagged white line across the chest. He thinks it’s just dressy enough while still being pretty casual, and he doesn’t think about why he cares so much about impressing Yixing in the first place.

He’s running a little late and Yixing is already seated at a window table when Yifan enters the cafe, bells on the door jingling softly above his head. Yixing looks up at the sound, and his face splits into a wide, happy smile, and he waves softly as Yifan feels his stomach slosh around in nervousness. Yifan heads over to join him, noticing how Yixing quickly closes up his usual leather-bound notebook, and pushes it off to the side of the table, folding his small hands together when Yifan approaches.

“Hi!” he says. “You really came.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Yifan questions, pulling off his coat and setting it over the back of the chair. He sits down and grins across the table at Yixing and tries desperately to fight down his anxiety.

Yixing shrugs. “I don’t know, I thought maybe perhaps you never came out of your apartment unless it was in a suit,” he says, and slowly laughs as his eyes rake over Yifan’s appearance. “I guess I was wrong.” He looks back up at Yifan’s eyes, and Yifan really hopes his nervousness isn’t showing through. “You look nice.”

It’s not even been five minutes and Yifan’s already flushing, and he kind of hates how Yixing does that so easily. He shakes his head quickly because he thinks for sure if anyone looks nice here, it’s Yixing. In dark framed glasses and a cozy looking white knitted cardigan over a simple white shirt, Yifan thinks he looks almost...angelic.

As soon as the word crosses his mind though he heats up even more, wondering where these errant thoughts are even coming from. Yixing blinks at him, asks, “Are you okay?” and Yifan nods, clearing his throat.

“Do you come here often?” he asks, looking around the place. It’s fairly small, with only a few tables. There’s one other customer in the place, seated in the corner with a laptop and mug of coffee. A young high school girl works at the register, and Yifan pretends not to notice the way she keeps glancing over at their table when she thinks they’re not looking. The cafe has a quiet, comfortable feel about it, with the calming scent of coffee beans and cinnamon pastries that makes him feel right at home. He thinks he might come back here when he needs to work on his articles over the weekends.

Yixing nods at him, takes a sip of the mug of coffee he already has set out before him. Yifan could do with some, too, but he doesn’t want to get up quite yet, and instead focuses his attention back on Yixing. “I come here to work during the day a lot,” he says. “It’s nice, don’t you think?”

Yifan nods. “I like it,” he agrees. “But does it have good food, too?”

Yixing laughs. “Of course! I wouldn’t have invited you here if they didn’t!”

“Well, then, what do you recommend?” Yifan asks. He expects Yixing to tell him his favorite items, but instead Yixing pushes his chair back, the legs screeching against the floor, and walks around to grab Yifan’s hand and tug him up, too. He looks slightly taken aback by Yifan’s height, this really being the first time the two of them have stood so close to one another, but then he’s smiling and dragging Yifan up to the front.

He points out all the best sandwiches and soups and desserts on the menu while consistently flashing the girl behind the counter happy smiles. She’s clearly seen him here before and Yixing talks to her amiably while Yifan contemplates what to get, and he thinks it’s really cute, Yixing’s easy happiness. It’s infectious, too, pulling a smile onto his face as he picks out his meal and places the order, and they bicker for a moment over who should pay - which makes Yifan wonder again if this really is a date - until Yixing uses the advantage of knowing the cashier to quickly pay for them both while Yifan is distracted.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says softly.

“It’s okay,” he says with a dimple-smile and eyes curving into crescents.

The food is delicious and Yixing looks pleased by Yifan’s reactions, giggling at his face as he blows air onto his spoonful of tomato soup. And Yifan isn’t sure what it is but it’s suddenly like everything Yixing does today stands out more than normal. Maybe it’s because they’re meeting for the first time outside of the bar, in a place that Yixing is clearly at home in, teasing the girl from earlier when she stops by to ask if everything’s going well, and greeting the man in the corner by name when he passed by the table to get a refill on his coffee. They chat for a few moments, and Yifan just takes it all in, the brightness of Yixing’s eyes as he talks, the things that make him laugh the easiest (Yifan saying something ridiculous, or later, when he spills his soup down his chin), the habit he has where he bites on his thumbnail when he’s listening, the occasional far-off look on his face like he’s thinking about something else but in reality he’s paying complete attention.

Yifan still doesn’t know if this is a date but it sure feels like one. Yixing asks him about work, about what he does in his spare time (which, Yifan tells him, is usually more work), pesters him into telling him stories about his colleagues, complaining all the while that as a novelist he doesn’t have that same office lifestyle and wishes he could experience it even once.

“It’s not all that great, believe me. Everyone is so nosy,” Yifan tells him. “They all keep pestering me about my crush on Lay, which I don’t have by the way,” he adds quickly when he notices Yixing’s gaze sharpen, the line of his back straightening.

Yixing laughs. “Really? Not even a little bit? Even after all your secret emails?”

“Oh no, not you too,” Yifan groans. “I should learn to keep my mouth shut. You tease me too much already.”

“Well, it’s so easy,” Yixing says with a wink that makes Yifan’s stomach flop around like a fish out of water.

They spend a few hours together that afternoon, finishing up lunch and ordering refills on their coffees, even splitting a large slice of tiramisu. Yixing gets a bit of cream on his upper lip and Yifan has to squash down on the thought that he’d much like to reach out and swipe it off with his thumb, or even lick it off for him, but instead points at him instead, laughing and hoping it hides his thoughts from Yixing who always seems to be able to read him like an open book.

“This was fun,” Yifan says when they cuddle back up in their coats and head out onto the street. It’s still light out so it’s not too cold, but Yifan crosses his arms over his chest and tries to keep warm. “I’m really glad you invited me.”

“I’m happy you said yes,” Yixing says, smiling warmly. “It was a great first date.”

Yifan almost trips over himself at Yixing’s words. “Date?” he asks, staring at him, and instantly he wants to take it back because the smile drops from Yixing’s face and his eyes widen and he looks embarrassed, and Yixing almost never looks embarrassed.

“Yes, date, well, I thought that’s what this was, I mean, I guess I shouldn’t have--”

“No! No, I mean, yes, that’s...that’s fine,” Yifan interjects quickly, and maybe a little too loudly because a middle-aged woman walking her dog glares at him as she passes by. Yixing laughs at that and the tension between them breaks easily. He grabs Yifan’s elbow to steer him off to the side of the building where less people can really notice them or hear them speaking.

“It’s fine?” Yixing asks. “Really?” He looks so hopeful.

Yifan nods. “Really. I just didn’t want to presume that it was--”

“Well why else would I ask you out for lunch, Yifan?” Yixing questions, chuckling softly in amusement. “I see you everyday, you’d think that’d be enough unless I really wanted to see you even more.”

Yifan feels himself blushing again. “Right,” he says weakly.

Yixing laughs at him, stepping up a bit closer, a little too close, and Yifan casts a worried look around them, but Yixing doesn’t seem concerned. “You’re really cute when you blush.”

Which only makes Yifan’s face heat up more, of course, and he groans, turning away from the spark in Yixing’s eyes and hiding his face in his hands. The sound of Yixing’s laughter is so pleasant, warming up his heart and his whole body like it’s the first day of June instead the middle of winter, and all he can muster is a “Shut up,” that sounds as pathetic as he thinks he must look.

Yixing is grinning at him when Yifan finally gets over his embarrassment, and he says, “So, I’ll see you later, then? I’ll call you.”

“Okay,” Yifan agrees, dropping his hands from his face, and Yixing reaches out to quickly squeeze his hand once, smaller fingers slipping between Yifan’s perfectly, before he pulls away. He waves, and turns away, heading off down the street, and Yifan can hear his heartbeat in his ears like never before, and he grins all the way home.

-

Chanyeol invites himself over that Sunday afternoon with a box of pizza and his usual loud, boisterous self, and Yifan doesn’t mind really because it’s been awhile since he’s hung out with him outside of catching lunch in the middle of the workday. Chanyeol puts in an action movie and yells a lot at the screen, and Yifan vaguely pays attention as he sifts through his notes from his meeting with Kyungsoo and all of his emails with Lay, and works on his article. The deadline is fast approaching and the last bit of the puzzle is just meeting Lay himself. He hopes Lu Han had a chance to talk him into it.

He gets a lot of texts from Yixing throughout the day. The first one telling him “good morning” surprised him when he woke up, but he definitely doesn’t mind. They’re cute, cheerful, very much like Yixing himself, and remind him quite a bit of Lay’s emails, with silly emoticons and constant teasing.

He tries to be inconspicuous about them, but it’s not long before Chanyeol notices how his phone beeps with alerts much more often than usual, and he’s tackling Yifan onto the couch in a mess of long limbs and curly hair. Chanyeol ends up being successful, withdrawing with Yifan’s phone clutched in his triumphantly outstretched hand, and he keeps his weight atop of Yifan’s body so he can’t move and snatch it back.

So instead he watches with an impending sense of doom as Chanyeol scrolls through his latest messages, eyes going wide, until he exclaims, “A _date_? An actual date with an actual human being?”

“Yes,” Yifan snaps, and uses Chanyeol’s complete surprise to shove him onto the floor and grab his phone.

“You haven’t been on a date since, well, _ever_!” Chanyeol says, looking astounded. “You’d always turn down those girls I told you about and even that one guy Baekhyun tried to set you up with, what was his name? Henry?”

Yifan shrugs noncommittally because he doesn’t want to talk about this, really. And the more he tells Chanyeol, the more Chanyeol is going to tell _everyone_ because Chanyeol doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.

“This is such a big deal!” Chanyeol says, looking up at Yifan from where he’s still sprawled across the floor, and he has this expression on his face like he’s confused as to why Yifan isn’t as excited as he is.

“No, it’s not,” Yifan says. “He’s just a guy I met. We’ve gone out on one date. That’s it.” He glares at Chanyeol. “Now stop staring at me, it’s creepy.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Chanyeol says, patting Yifan’s knee, and it’s hard to tell whether he’s being sincere or just teasing. Then he grins, wide, showing two lines of perfect white teeth. “When can I meet the guy?”

“ _Never_ ,” Yifan hisses, and ignores all of Chanyeol’s whines. “I don’t need you to scare him off.”

Chanyeol laughs, “Would I do that?” and pouts when Yifan instantly says, “Yes.”

“So mean, Yifan,” Chanyeol whines, pressing his cheek against Yifan’s knee and looking up at him. “Are you this mean to that Yixing person?”

Yifan laughs, shakes his head. “I think he’s meaner to me than I am to him.”

“Oh good, I approve of him already,” Chanyeol says happily, and then draws away to grab another slice of pizza and return his attention to the movie.

Yifan just rolls his eyes at him and grabs his phone when it beeps again. He pretends not to notice the smirk Chanyeol throws his way, focusing instead on the message on his phone that makes a grin spread wide across his face.

  
**To: Yifan  
From: Yixing!!**

I hope we can go out again soon! Next time you should pick the place. ;)

-

 **To:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **From:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **Sent:** Tuesday January 8th, 2013 at 8:04 AM

 _What made you decide to become a writer? Is it something you always wanted to do?_  
No, actually I really wanted to be a singer! I wanted to be famous! Haha I guess I did manage to fulfill that dream just not the way I'd planned. I'd always loved music and I went to school for it, but somewhere along the way, I think because of a writing course I was required to take, I realized how much I enjoyed that, too. It's similar to writing lyrics and music, in a way, because it all comes from a very deep place inside of yourself. I may write stories about mysteries and love and things I've never really experienced firsthand, but everything the character feels is a little bit of me on the page. Every song I write is a piece of myself I want my audience to feel or understand or accept. It's all very similar, and I had a teacher tell me the things I wrote for that class were really quite good, that I should consider trying to publish them.

I sort of brushed it off then because I was interested in music, not writing, but even after that class I found myself writing a lot anyway. Little stories about places I've been or people I meet, just anecdotes to keep with me. Those turned into characters, into settings, into plotlines, into stories.

But anyway! I’m getting carried away!! I dropped out of university for a lot of reasons, but I guess that’s part of what pushed me to pursuing a writing career. I’d tried to find an agent in Beijing, sent works to literary magazines and editors but kept getting rejected, over and over again. It was really frustrating!! After I moved to Seoul, I tried again and again, and it was awhile before I met Kyungsoo. He really helped me out. And well, here I am today! :D

That was a lot longer than I’d planned, sorry! ^^;

 

 **To:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **From:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **Sent:** Tuesday January 8th, 2013 at 8:16 AM

You know, this sort of thing would be so much easier to talk about _in person_.

 

 **To:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **From:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **Sent:** Tuesday January 8th, 2013 at 8:18 AM

You’re not going to stop bugging me about that, are you? Don’t worry! Lu Han talked to me about it, and I know I’m being difficult but it’s not on purpose. Really! I have a really big deadline coming up for the draft of my new novel, but I will try to find a time to meet you soon. I promise.

 

 **To:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **From:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **Sent:** Tuesday January 8th, 2013 at 8:27 AM

I didn’t realize you were working on a new book. Can you tell me about it? What can we expect? Is it similar to your previous works or completely different?

 

 **To:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **From:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **Sent:** Tuesday January 8th, 2013 at 8:35 AM

So many questions, Yifan, calm down! I’m glad to see you’re interested, but if I give it away now it won’t be much fun, will it? ;)

Besides, this is still the first draft. Who knows what it’ll be like once Kyungsoo gets his hands on it!

 

 **To:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **From:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **Sent:** Tuesday January 8th, 2013 at 8:50 AM

There’s probably no point in trying to change your mind about that, is there?

 

 **To:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **From:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **Sent:** Tuesday January 8th, 2013 at 8:50 AM

Ah, you’re finally catching on!

-

Yixing's waiting out front of their usual bar, looking down at his phone and wrapped up in a nice plaid jacket with leather sleeves. He's wearing dark rimmed glasses and a tiny smile on his face as he looks at his phone. It grows wide when Yifan joins him, muttering out a "Sorry, I'm late," before Yixing is grinning, tucking his phone into his pocket, and stepping up on tiptoe to greet Yifan with a kiss. 

Yifan gasps into his mouth, entirely surprised because this is definitely not how he expected their first kiss to be like (not that he ever thought about it, nope), and he thinks his brain may have short-circuited. He feels Yixing’s lips curl into a smile against his lips, soft and warm, before he pulls away and Yifan ignores the pang of disappointment.

“Hi,” Yixing says easily. “Are you ready to go?”

Yifan’s mind is still reeling from the unexpectedness of the kiss and it takes him a moment to register what Yixing just said. “Go where? Aren’t we going inside?” Yifan says finally, blinking in confusion, but Yixing laughs and shakes his head.

“I want to get dinner with you,” Yixing says, and he tugs on the hem of Yifan’s coat and leads him past the entrance to the bar and down the sidewalk. “There’s a great barbecue place two blocks over. I haven’t had a chance to eat properly today so I thought this would be good.”

Yifan chuckles, lets himself get dragged along by Yixing’s unpredictableness, and flushes a little when Yixing smiles happily at him when Yifan takes the hand that’s still clutching his jacket to intertwine their fingers instead. “I thought you said I’d get to pick the place when we go out again,” Yifan says.

“Next time,” Yixing promises, looking up at him a little apologetically. “Today I really just want to do this.”

Yifan squeezes his hand. “It’s okay. I’m fine with just spending time with you.”

That pulls a big laugh from Yixing and he reaches up to poke Yifan in the cheek. “You can be really lame sometimes, you know,” he says, but his eyes are wonderfully bright in amusement.

Yifan groans. “So my friends tell me,” he mumbles, remembering back to many occasions when Chanyeol and Lu Han have told him the same thing. “I’m sorry, it’s just that we haven’t seen each other the past two days, and--”

“I like it,” Yixing says, stepping a little closer to him so his right arm brushes against Yifan’s, their hands locked together between them. “It’s cute.” His smile is kind and affectionate, drawing that dimple out again and Yifan resists the urge to poke him back.

“Don’t call me cute,” he grumbles instead and Yixing snickers and doesn’t listen, calling Yifan every variation of the word “cute” that he can think of until they finally arrive at the barbecue restaurant.

They’re seated at a table in the corner, shrugging out of their coats and settling in comfortably before they order drinks and take the menus offered by the waitress. Yixing leans around the table to point out his favorite items on the menu, and Yifan tries not to focus on the way his knee slides up along his thigh under the table. They order when the waitress stops by again with their drinks, and Yifan bites back his disappointment when Yixing slips away, back into his seat.

It may be their second “date” but being with Yixing is easy and comfortable now, and Yifan likes that about him. He doesn’t have to worry so much about making a good impression, especially when Yixing seems content on _ruining_ Yifan’s finely built cool exterior. They talk amiably about work, Yixing firing off questions about how his article writing going, and letting Yifan fall easily into discussing things Lay has told him over the course of their correspondence. He’s really supposed to keep these things secret, but Yixing makes it easy to talk about him, and Yifan’s done such a good job of not telling anyone at work what he’s learned (not even Lu Han who pesters him about it, whining that Lay himself won’t tell Lu Han much either), that he’s quickly excited about divulging information.

He keeps some things hidden of course, telling Yixing he has to wait until the article is published, and laughing at the cute pout that Yixing throws his way like it’ll change his mind. It almost does, but Yifan won’t tell him that.

“I’ll tell you more if _you_ tell me about your own work,” Yifan says, raising a brow expectantly.

Yixing pouts at him again and says, “That’s mean.”

“Nah, it’s smart,” Yifan replies. He clears his throat and adds, looking down at his silverware instead of at Yixing’s face. “I just want to know more about you. I mean, if we’re, uh, well, _dating_...”

Now, Yixing looks slightly guilty, and he reaches a hand across the table to pat Yifan’s. “Don’t make me feel bad on our date. _That’s_ mean.” But then he laughs, and Yifan does, too, because he definitely doesn’t want Yixing to feel upset, he’s just really curious. “I am sorry though,” Yixing says, “it’s not that I don’t _want_ to tell you.”

“It’s fine,” Yifan says, shaking his head. “I think it’s my journalist nature. I like to know things.” He squeezes Yixing’s hand, then withdraws his own, placing it on his lap under the table. He smiles at Yixing. “I guess you just can’t help that mysterious persona, huh?”

Yixing laughs, looking slightly relieved that Yifan’s not annoyed by his secrets. “Ah, you’re finally catching on!” he says happily, eyes curving in crescents again, but Yifan blinks at him as those words creep down his back like he’s heard them before.

It takes him a moment but then he figures it out, remembering the email he’d gotten earlier that day from Lay who had said nearly the same thing to him. He laughs as he realizes this, staring at Yixing who blinks at him with that blank look he gets sometimes, tilting his head a little inquisitively.

“What?” Yixing asks finally, looking a little offput by Yifan’s amused stare.

“I just realized how much you remind me of Lay,” he says simply, then shakes his head. “No, I think I’ve thought that before, but what you said a moment ago, Lay said something like that to me today, too.”

Yixing sits up a little straighter, eyes widening for a second before his expression relaxes and he laughs, too. “Oh,” he says, and Yifan can’t help but notice the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but he’s not sure exactly why. “Really?”

Yifan nods. “Yeah,” he says, and shrugs. “You two are really alike. I mean, I haven’t met Lay yet, so I can’t exactly say that, but you remind me of him, and vice versa. You both definitely overuse ridiculous emoticons in your messages, and you definitely like making fun of me.”

Yixing’s laugh this time is honest, lighting up his whole face, and Yifan grins widely as he takes in the beautiful expression on his face. The tension in his shoulders seems to relax, too, as he hides his mouth behind his hand as he chuckles, then rests his chin upon his hand, elbow on the table, and looks directly across at Yifan.

“But you like me more, right?” he asks slyly, eyes mischievous, and Yifan flushes deeply as he nods.

“Yes! Well, yes, of course I--” Yifan exclaims, and Yixing settles back in his seat with a satisfied clap of his hands.

“Good. Just making sure,” he says, and Yifan rolls his eyes at him, but he feels relieved by the soft, affectionate look on Yixing’s face.

Yifan reaches for his bottle of beer and takes a few long, satisfying sips, and just barely notices the way Yixing stares at him from over his bottle, only his gaze seems a little clouded, like he’s thinking about something and not really looking at Yifan. It happens a lot, that sort of dazed look he gets, but Yifan feels like something is a little off, and he sets his bottle back down and waves a hand in front of Yixing’s face.

“Are you okay?” he asks, worried, and Yixing blinks quickly before his eyes refocus and he nods.

“Yeah, I-I’m fine,” he says, slightly flustered as though he didn’t want Yifan to realize he’d been spacing out.

Yifan assesses him, noticing the way Yixing’s now avoiding his gaze, and he’s biting on his thumbnail as he stares down at the tabletop with contemplation strong in his features. “You sure?” Yifan says carefully, not wanting to annoy him with his concern, but Yifan’s never quite seen Yixing like this, so suddenly withdrawn, that it makes his stomach knot unpleasantly.

Yixing flicks his gaze back up to him, then takes a deep breath and Yifan can see his shoulders rise and fall. He drops his hand to his lap and says, “Actually, I-uh, I had something I wanted to tell you--”

He’s cut off by their waitress returning with their dishes, smiling kindly at them and asking if they need anything else before rushing off. Yifan reaches for his chopsticks, lips stretching into a grin as he sees Yixing has already started in on his own meal. “What were you going to say?” he asks him.

“Oh,” Yixing says, shaking his head. “It was nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He smiles at Yifan who wants to press him for more, curious about what he’d been thinking so deeply about just moments earlier, but the unease in his belly has disappeared and Yixing looks visibly happier now with food in front of him, so he lets it go.

“You can tell me later,” he says instead and Yixing nods around a mouthful of rice and Yifan chuckles at the way his cheeks are puffed up adorably.

-

When Yifan heads to the bar after work Friday night, Yixing isn’t there yet. He heads to his usual seat, tugging off his leather gloves and pulling his phone from his pocket. He checks his messages to see if Yixing has sent him anything, but there’s just one there from Baekhyun about lunch plans on Sunday. He types back a quick affirmative response and sets the phone onto the counter as Zitao stops by.

“Beer?” he asks kindly, and Yifan nods. Zitao grabs a bottle, snapping off the cap and setting it down onto a napkin before Yifan who grins at his precision.

“Jongdae’s taught you well,” he says, amused, and Zitao laughs.

“So where’s your other half?” Zitao asks him interestedly and Yifan blinks in confusion until Zitao elaborates, “Yixing?”

“Oh,” Yifan says with a soft chuckle. He takes a drink from the bottle and returns it atop the napkin. “He’s been busy lately with work so I guess he’s a little late.”

Zitao assesses him quietly before the corner of his mouth tugs up into a smirk. “You don’t have to look so sad about that,” he teases and Yifan frowns at him.

“I’m not,” he insists quickly, maybe a little too quickly, because Zitao laughs at him at again and looks incredibly disbelieving. Grumbling, Yifan mutters, “You’re just as bad as Jongdae. Has he taught you how to annoy your customers, too?”

Zitao looks sheepish as his smile wanes a bit. “I’m not trying to be mean,” he says. “I just think it’s cute.”

“Like that’s any better,” Yifan says, narrowing his eyes.

Zitao shakes his head at him and turns away when he hears another customer asking for a refill a few seats away. Yifan sighs, drinking down more of his beer and then glancing at his phone messages again even though he knows he hasn’t heard it beep with any new alerts.

Yixing has been busy that past couple of days, working on meeting a deadline for whatever project he was working on that he still won’t tell Yifan much about. His messages have been few and far between, just occasional updates about how much he hates writing endings and how he was so close to throwing his laptop out the window. Yifan definitely sympathizes with that, sending back texts about his difficulties writing an article about a person he hasn’t had the chance to meet in person yet, even though Lay has emailed him answers to the rest of the questions Yifan had asked about. He has a lot of information, but he’d still very much like to meet him before handing in his draft to Lu Han.

Yifan is supposed to meet Yixing at the bar after work as Yixing said he would have his work into his publisher that morning so they could celebrate that night, but Yifan waits ten, twenty minutes and Yixing doesn’t show up. He’s finished off his beer and has sent Yixing a text to check up on him, even though he has an inkling that Yixing probably missed his deadline and is scrambling to finish, or fell asleep somewhere afterward, which is usually what happens to Yifan on days he has deadlines, too.

He pays for his drink and waves goodbye to Zitao, and heads back home, figuring there’s no point in sitting on his own at the bar, especially now that he’s gotten so used to spending his time there with Yixing. Just as he gets into his apartment, his phone rings, playing Wonder Girls’ Nobody, something ridiculous that Yixing had set as his own ringtone the last time they'd met. He fumbles to lock his door and grab his phone at the same time, just catching the call before it goes to voicemail.

“Yixing?” he asks.

“Yifan!” Yixing exclaims, sounding slightly frazzled. “Did you leave already? I’m sorry, I was at a dinner meeting with my editor and a friend of ours and it ran late.”

“It’s okay,” Yifan says, toeing out of his shoes and heading inside. He drops his briefcase onto the couch and unbuttons his coat, wedging his phone between his ear and shoulder until he’s put it away into the hall closet.

“Are you already home?” Yixing asks and when Yifan says that he is, Yixing adds quickly, “Then can I come over?”

Yifan almost walks into his kitchen table in surprise, not expecting that at all. He glances around the apartment, taking in the dirty dishes in the sink and the stacks of papers and magazines and every single one of Lay’s books and short stories spread out across the kitchen and coffee tables. It’s definitely not exactly what he’d like Yixing to see, but Yixing is already taking his silence as a no and pleading into his ear softly, and Yifan can just imagine the kicked-puppy look on his face.

“Okay, okay,” he says, unable to resist a smile as Yixing cheers.

“Great! Send me your address and I’ll be over soon!” he says before the line goes dead. Yifan chuckles, shaking his head, and quickly texts over his address to Yixing before setting his phone onto the kitchen counter and scrounging through the fridge for something quick to eat.

Ten minutes later, Yixing’s at his door, big grin behind a thick red scarf that he tugs down far enough to lean up and kiss Yifan on the cheek in greeting. His eyes are shining and Yifan catches the hint of alcohol in his breath when he pulls away, and Yifan takes Yixing’s coat from him and hangs it up in the closet.

“Your place is nice,” Yixing says. He’s standing in the middle of the living room, looking around curiously, just a tiny bit wobbly on his feet and Yifan remembers he said he’d been out with his editor and a friend, and it’s clear he’s a little tipsy. He’s peering at the bookshelf that’s overflowing with texts, everything from writing reference books to old Korean language books to authors Yifan enjoys reading. Yixing laughs, points to the second shelf from the top where Yifan haphazardly returned all of Lay’s books earlier. “You weren’t kidding that you liked him, huh?”

Yifan rubs the back of his neck and shrugs, heading to the couch and flopping down upon it. Yixing continues to stare at the bookshelf, head tilted slightly, and Yifan just catches the surprise in his eyes when he turns around. It’s gone in the next second, though, replaced by his usual softness, smiling wide as he walks over to join Yifan on the couch. He flops down upon it ungracefully, and Yifan is mostly amused, because he’s never really seen Yixing this inebriated.

“You even have _Two Moons_ and that’s one of the lesser known ones,” Yixing says.

“How do you know that?” Yifan asks curiously, heart racing a bit as Yixing’s thigh presses up against his own.

“You’re not the only one who’s read his stuff,” he says simply.

Yifan laughs softly because he’s got a point and he settles back comfortably against the couch, stretching out long legs so his feet rest up onto the ledge of the coffee table. He notices the way Yixing’s eyes slide down the line of his legs, taking them in almost interestedly, and Yifan fights back the curl of pleasure in his stomach. He clears his throat and asks, “How was your dinner? Did you meet your deadline?”

“Oh, yes,” Yixing says happily, gaze sliding from Yifan’s legs up the length of his body before resting on his face. His eyes are bright with success. “My editor was pleasantly surprised that I was on time, though he’ll probably not be as pleased tomorrow once he’s read through the draft.” He laughs loudly, and his head rolls only Yifan’s shoulder and Yifan breath catches in his throat.

“A-Are you drunk?” he asks, now slightly concerned more than amused.

“No,” Yixing says, then adds, “Yes. Probably.” He pauses, presses his thumbnail to his lips and then sighs and Yifan can feel the soft heat of his breath through his shirt.

“Too much celebrating?” Yifan guesses, even when he can feel tension drawing into Yixing’s shoulders, the uncertainty that replaces the brightness in his eyes.

“Well, that,” Yixing agrees, “but I had something important to talk to my friend about, too. Needed advice about something.”

Yifan pulls back a bit so he can look down at Yixing clearly, and the contemplation in his eyes is so similar to the look he’d seen the other night when they’d had dinner together. He takes a chance and asks, “Is this about what you were thinking about when we had barbecue a few days ago?”

Yixing blinks up at him, surprised, so Yifan continues, “Well, you looked like you were seriously considering something important.” He scratches the side of his face, carefully broaching the topic because he doesn’t want to push any boundaries. “You never did tell me what you wanted to say.” He had thought about it a few times over the past couple of days, but he figured if it’d been really important, Yixing would have already told him. He is still curious, though.

“I will, I will,” Yixing says earnestly, nodding his head so that his hair flops into his eyes and it’s really adorable. Yifan reaches out to push his bangs away and the way Yixing smiles up at him makes his heart miss a beat. “It might have been about that, though. And, well, I’ll tell you. I just need to figure out how.”

Yifan nods because he understands that. He pulls his hand back, but Yixing takes it instead, threading their fingers together, and Yifan really likes how Yixing’s hand is so small in his but fits just right. “You can tell me anything, you know,” he finds himself saying, and he feels a flush creep up the back of his neck as his own words reach his ears. At Yixing’s laughter, he drops his gaze to the low scoop of Yixing’s white tank, loose under a black cardigan, and well, that’s not much better, he thinks, taking in the smooth pale skin of his chest.

He looks back up quickly when Yixing pokes at his nose and says, “You’re cute. Really cute.”

Yifan hates when he does that, but maybe he likes it, too, and right now he just burns a deeper red, and opens his mouth to deny it. But it’s as though Yixing knows what he’s going to say, and he cuts him off before Yifan can speak with lips pressed against his.

It’s not the first time Yixing has kissed him, but it is the first time Yifan has been able to kiss back before Yixing moves away, sliding his lips across Yixing’s and he catches Yixing’s flicker of surprise before his eyes fall shut. Yifan unfurls his hand from Yixing’s and reaches up to instead cup the side of his face, thumb rubbing over his cheekbone before slipping his fingers into his hair. Yixing sighs against his lips, the wet tip of his tongue darting out to lick along the seam of Yifan’s mouth until Yifan lets him in, a soft noise of pleasure escaping as Yixing kisses him harder.

And this, this is good, this is really good, and Yifan hasn’t been in a relationship in a long time but this he can do. And he likes Yixing, a lot, and right now he very much likes the way his mouth is slick and warm against his, the way his hands are pulling at the collar of Yifan’s button-down like he’s trying to bring Yifan even closer than he already is, the way he’s both eager and assertive, and the way he breathes out Yifan’s name.

Yixing’s hand rests on his thigh, and Yifan drops his feet from the coffee table so quickly he stubs his toe on the ledge and cries out. It has Yixing dissolving into giggles against his lips, eyes so bright when Yifan pulls back to look at him, and his face is burning in embarrassment. He thinks he’d like to hide behind his hands or something, just so Yixing would stop looking at him with such amusement, but instead he lowers his hand that’s still threaded in Yixing’s hair until it’s pressed against the nape of his neck and draws Yixing back up into his mouth. Yixing happily kisses him again, and Yifan feels the burn of embarrassment fade into the burn of pleasure, slow and steady like a candle lighting under his skin.

He gasps when Yixing slides his hand up his thigh, reaches around to hold onto Yifan’s hip and turn him, his other hand tugging at the collar of Yifan’s shirt, and somehow, Yifan finds himself pulled down atop of Yixing who sighs contently as his back hits the couch cushions. Yifan breaks away to stare down at him in surprise, but then Yixing shifts beneath him just enough that his crotch rubs against Yifan’s and Yifan can feel his arousal there.

Yifan licks his lips and Yixing blatantly stares, which makes him possibly even more flustered. Compared to Yixing, who looks so calm and collected, Yifan feels like every inch of his body is out of control, and he just lets Yixing lead, following along with every lick of his tongue against his lips, every touch of his fingers as they slip under his shirt, every rock of his hips up against Yifan’s.

It’s a little uncomfortable on the small couch though, and Yifan tries to find a way to fit without crushing Yixing under his weight and long limbs that feel even more awkward today than usual. Yixing just laughs though, his hair mussed from Yifan’s fingers and lips slightly swollen, and Yifan’s heart beats faster just looking at him.

“You’re too tall for this couch,” Yixing says, and he pushes Yifan off him and stands, stretches arms over his shoulder and smirks when he catches Yifan’s eyes on the stripe of skin across of his stomach where his shirt rides up. “You know, I haven’t been here before. Maybe you should give me a tour?” He takes Yifan’s hand and pulls him up. “We could start with your bedroom.”

The easy way he says it pulls a big laugh out of Yifan, and he laughs the way he knows shows his teeth and his gums and Yixing’s eyes grow so affectionate as he looks at him.

“Okay,” Yifan says, when his mirth subsides and he realizes exactly what Yixing is suggesting. He wants it, too, if the way his arousal spikes is any indication. “Okay, yeah, we can do that,” he says, and pulls a grinning Yixing to his room.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Yixing asks, pushing Yifan onto the bed easily and crawling on top of him. The insides of his thighs press warm against Yifan’s, and his hands rest atop his chest. Yifan wonders if Yixing can feel the rapid beating of his heart in his fingertips. “You look kind of nervous.” Yixing looks amused.

“You’re drunk,” Yifan counters, because he doesn’t really want to admit that, yeah, he is kinda nervous. “Are _you_ sure this is okay?”

Yixing laughs, and his rolls his hips down against Yifan’s, drawing a hiss from between Yifan’s teeth. “I’m not _that_ drunk,” he assures him. “And besides, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

“Yeah?” Yifan says, sliding his hand up Yixing’s back as he leans forward to ghost his lips along Yixing’s.

“Yeah,” Yixing says and fits their mouths together again. From there it’s like a haze, like Yifan’s the one inebriated, mind growing fuzzy from the heat of Yixing’s mouth, the way his fingers flit along his heated skin as he unbuttons Yifan’s shirt, the tiny gasps he makes as Yifan brushes his thumb along the soft spot behind his ear.

Yifan shudders as Yixing drops his hands to the fastenings on his pants once he’s finished opening up his shirt, and he lifts his hips instinctively to help Yixing pull his black dress pants down his thighs. He’s harder than he’s been in a very long time, straining against his briefs, when Yixing slips a hand down the front to wrap his fingers around his cock, Yifan bites down so hard against Yixing’s bottom lip that he draws blood.

Yixing just laughs, soft and kind and reassuring, and Yifan doesn’t even have the chance to feel mortified because he’s stroking him from base to tip, rubbing his thumb over the slit, and it’s good, it’s really good, and Yifan’s bucking his hips up for more. “Relax,” Yixing chides him, only he sounds bemused, lips dragging down Yifan’s neck, tongue leaving hot wet trails on his skin.

“How do you expect me to-- _oh god_ ,” Yifan gasps as Yixing closes his mouth around a nipple and he sucks softly, and Yifan feels like his whole body is being wound up too tightly in pleasure he has no control over. Yixing presses his hip down with his free hand, pinning him to the bed as he jerks him off faster, dips his head lower, and at the first touch of his tongue to Yifan’s cock, Yifan’s pretty sure it’s a miracle he doesn’t come.

Yixing flicks his gaze up to Yifan and his eyes are so bright Yifan can’t even dare to look away. Not that he even wants to, when Yixing’s red lips wrap around the head of his cock and suck, when his cheeks hollow as he takes more, when his tongue presses hot and slick against the sensitive spot below the head. Yifan tries to move up into the incredible heat, but Yixing pins him down again, pulling away to laugh when Yifan groans in frustration and the puffs of breath on his dick definitely doesn’t help his case at all. Yixing grins at him though, replacing his mouth with his hand, and he leans up to kiss Yifan again, catching every gasp and moan between his lips until Yifan comes, thighs trembling and fingers curling into the bedsheets as he spills onto his stomach and over Yixing’s fingers.

“That was fast,” Yixing comments.

“Shut up,” Yifan says but it’s without any real heat, his whole body quivering still and making it hard to think. “It’s been awhile.”

Yixing just makes a soft noise against his lips, slowly trailing his mouth across Yifan’s jaw and to his ear. He nips at the lobe and whispers, “Suck me off?”

Yifan definitely hasn’t done this in awhile but Yixing doesn’t seem to mind when he pushes him onto his back and slowly undoes his jeans, pushing up the end of his shirt to suck against the skin of his tummy. Yixing gasps as he bites down against his hipbone and finally gets his hand around his erection, stroking once, twice, before yanking his clothes down his thighs. Yifan swallows before he takes Yixing into his mouth, keeping his gaze on Yixing’s face and enjoying the way he slowly starts to fall apart. The pink in his cheeks and bruised lips, dark eyelashes fluttering against pale skin, teeth pressing into the cut Wu Fade made in his bottom lip. Once again, Yifan finds that he can’t look away.

Yixing’s hands slide into his hair and he pulls and pushes Yifan’s head further down. Yifan relaxes around him, taking him in deeper, until the head of his cock reaches the back of Yifan’s throat, and Yixing’s sharp gasp is all the warning he gets before he’s coming. Yifan chokes a bit, coughing as he backs up and swallows, and Yixing is staring up at him with big eyes of amazement, a sated smiling tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Sorry,” he breathes, but he doesn’t sound particularly apologetic, just happy, which Yifan thinks is better, anyway. He pulls Yifan down upon him by pulling at an open end of Yifan’s shirt, and adds against his lips, “That was really good, though.”

Yifan laughs, loud and irrepressible, feeling better than he has in a long, long time, a pleased hum low in his veins and heart impossibly warm in his chest. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Yixing says, before Yifan kisses him again.

-

The next week feels like Yifan is living someone else’s life. It’s been a long time since he’s been in anything remotely close to a real relationship, but being with Yixing makes everything feel easy and simple. Everything is still the same as before, when they were just two strangers who happened to become friends over drinks at a shared bar, but now Yifan can squeeze Yixing’s hand under the table when no one is looking, can kiss him full on the mouth when Yixing smiles at him softly, as long as they’re behind closed doors because Yifan doesn’t dare do that sort of thing in public. Yixing isn’t as concerned about those things, happily linking their fingers as they walk down the street to grab a bite to eat after a few drinks at the bar, or stepping up on tiptoes to greet Yifan with a kiss to the cheek. But he tones it down quickly, when he seems to catch the way Yifan grows slightly nervous, and Yifan likes that about him, too, that he doesn’t have to tell him what he feels, Yixing just _knows_.

They still go to the bar, but some nights they don’t, some nights Yifan meets Yixing for dinner after work and they go back to Yifan’s place (always his place because Yixing says his apartment is a right mess these days because of editing), and they watch a movie or work on their own things, sitting at opposite ends of the couch with their legs tangled in the middle and Yixing complains that Yifan’s giant body takes up too much space.

Yixing stays over a few times, falling asleep with his head in Yifan’s lap that Yifan doesn’t have the heart to make him go home and instead pulls him to bed with him. In the morning, Yifan finds him in the kitchen, singing along to a Jimmy Lin song as he makes breakfast in a pair of Yifan’s sweatpants that the seems to have taken from his closet, the ends rolled up to ankles. Yifan likes those mornings a lot, pressing a kiss to Yixing’s shoulder and laughing at the way he jumps, likes taking his time to eat breakfast properly as Yixing drags his foot up along his calf under the table, blinking innocently as he pops a piece of fruit into his mouth. Yifan, who usually rushes out in the morning to get to work on time, likes being able to take it easy with Yixing, who is all smiles and mussed up hair and soft kisses.

Being with Yixing like this puts him into an incredibly good mood that everyone seems to notice right away, Lu Han poking him mercilessly to tell him what’s up but Yifan refuses, content on keeping this bit of happiness to himself. Chanyeol is the only one who knows but Yifan gets him to keep his mouth shut about it if Chanyeol doesn’t want Baekhyun to know he was the one to put itching powder in his coat.

Yixing texts him a lot throughout the day, more so than ever before, but Yifan likes that, too, responding to him whenever he’s stuck on writing. It’s like his good mood has made everything else in his life better, too, because Lay’s sent back emails almost instantaneously, answering a few more questions about his previous works and what inspired them, or about places he likes to work, or what sorts of things he does when he’s stuck. Writing the article has become much easier, and all Yifan really needs at this point is a chance to talk to Lay in person, so he can ensure that the persona he’s written about Lay from his emails is true to the man himself.

On a Wednesday, Yifan declines Minseok's invitation to get lunch and meets Yixing instead, Yixing having messaged him that morning to see if he was free. They meet at a small burger place a block from Yifan's office, and halfway through their meals, Minseok and Chanyeol walk in, freezing in the doorway when they see him.

"Oh, so this is why you didn't want to come with us," Minseok says, amused, looking down at Yixing who has already befriended Chanyeol, sitting beside Yixing on a chair he’d pulled from another table.

“It just figures you guys would end up here, too,” Yifan sighs, eyeing Yixing and Chanyeol’s conversation warily, their laughter and the occasional smirks Chanyeol shoots at him worrisome.

“Well, it _is_ Chanyeol’s favorite, so you probably should’ve thought of that if you didn’t want us to interrupt your little date,” Minseok says.

“Just go away,” Yifan says, waving a hand at him. “And take Chanyeol with you before he tells Yixing all of my dirty secrets.”

“Do you have many dirty secrets?” Yixing questions curiously, turning to look at Yifan when he hears his name.

“No,” Yifan quickly replies and Chanyeol barks out a laugh.

“What about the time when you--” he starts but yelps when Minseok grabs his collar and pulls him up and out of his chair.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s leave them to their date,” and drags a flailing Chanyeol away.

“Your friends from work?” Yixing asks, laughing as he watches Chanyeol and Minseok order up at the front for a moment before turning back to Yifan.

Yifan nods solemnly. “Chanyeol, the one who looks like an overgrown puppy, has been bugging me about meeting you ever since our first date,” he says, and chuckles softly as Chanyeol chooses that moment to shout goodbye at them, waving with both hands until Minseok grabs him by the hood of his jacket and literally pulls him out of the shop, a plastic bag of food clutched in his other hand.

Yixing grins. “Well, now I’m curious to meet them too. _Properly_.”

“Maybe next time,” Yifan says with a sigh. “I am worried about the stupid things Chanyeol will tell you, considering how much you tease me already, that’s the _last_ thing I need.”

Laughing, Yixing reaches out to pat Yifan’s hand. “I tease to show my love.”

“Then you must love me a lot,” Yifan jokes, and feels his stomach fill with butterflies when Yixing just smiles enigmatically at him and doesn’t deny it.

-

“So how’s the article coming along?” Lu Han questions, poking his head over the top of Yifan’s cubicle, clearly standing on his tiptoes to peer down at him. He gives up after a moment, and comes around inside instead, sliding on the Yifan’s desk like he belongs there.

“Good,” Yifan says. “I have it pretty much finished, I think. If I could get Lay to meet me sometime soon, I should have it to you within the week.” He grins successfully and Lu Han looks impressed.

“I’m glad you were able to get so much done,” he says. “I know it hasn’t exactly been the easiest project.”

Yifan chuckles, “That’s one way of putting it.” He glances back at his laptop screen where he’s got his word document pulled up, the cursor blinking in the middle of a sentence. He quickly types up the rest and saves it, before turning back to Lu Han. “Nah,” he says, “it hasn’t been that bad. Sure, it’s not the conventional way of interviewing someone, but he’s been really good about it. And you were right, he’s a cool guy. I do like him.”

Lu Han beams at him proudly. “I knew you would!” he says happily. “You know, I just saw him a week ago? We had dinner after he finished up the first draft of his new book.”

“So he’ll meet with you and not me?” Yifan says with a sigh, shaking his head.

“He has been busy with his writing,” Lu Han points out. “You can’t really blame him.”

“I guess not,” Yifan mutters. “I’m just getting frustrated now.”

Lu Han laughs, pats him on the shoulder a little too hard. “Don’t worry! I’m sure Yixing will come around, he can be very stubborn about these things--”

Yifan stares at Lu Han as he continues to ramble, every word after _Yixing_ having fallen on deaf years, and it suddenly feels like someone’s smacked him upside the head with a blunt object. He blinks and swallows thickly, chuckling softly to himself because there’s no way Lu Han just said Yixing’s name, right? Lu Han doesn’t even _know_ Yixing.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Lu Han demands, waving a hand in front of Yifan’s face.

“Yixing,” Yifan says slowly, looking straight at Lu Han’s eyes and he doesn’t miss the way Lu Han’s gaze widens. “You just said _Yixing_ , not _Lay_.”

Lu Han’s face flashes in horror and it’s so quick that Yifan wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been paying such close attention. His heart is beating wildly in his chest because what the fuck does this mean, and he sits up straighter in his chair, looking at Lu Han who is opening and closing his mouth like he’s trying to justify what he said but can’t.

“Yixing,” Yifan says, surprised he can still speak calmly when he feels confusion bubbling like anger under his skin, “as in _Zhang Yixing_? How...How do you know him?”

Lu Han bites his lower lip and gives Yifan a look like he’s begging him not to ask anymore, but Yifan can already feel the pieces fitting together like a puzzle in his head and he just needs to know.

“Lu Han,” he says but it comes out more like a plea and Lu Han clenches his eyes shut tight as he heaves a deep breath.

When he looks at Yifan again, he seems apologetic. “Yifan, Yixing...Yixing is Lay. That’s how I know him.” He swallows, sighs, looks away from Yifan who feels like his entire world, like everything he’s known and leaned the past few weeks has come crumbling down into piles of ash around him.

All he can do is clench his fingers into the sides of his slacks, probably scrunching and wrinkling them up terribly but he doesn’t care. All he can even think to say is, “ _What_?” even though he heard Lu Han clearly.

“Yixing is Lay,” Lu Han tells him again, like Yifan hadn’t heard him.

“And, all this time, you knew, didn’t you?” Yifan asks, looking at Lu Han incredulously. “He told you about me, didn’t he? About...About _us_ , about everything?”

Lu Han winces, but nods, and the expression on his face is clear discomfort. He reaches out to pat Yifan’s shoulder again, but Yifan jerks away.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yifan almost shouts, and he can feel the rest of the office grow deathly silent for a few minutes.

Lu Han hisses back, giving him a stern look for his tone of voice, but Yifan couldn’t care less about that, right now, “He told me not to! It was never my place to say anything, either.”

Yifan can’t think anymore, his mind reeling with the fact that Yixing is Lay. That Lay, all this time, was the man he met at the bar, the man he’s spent almost everyday the past week with, the man he’s slowly started to fall for--

He stands up quickly, mutters, “I’m going home,” and gathers up his things. Lu Han pleads at him to not tell Yixing that he knows, to calm down about everything, that Yixing definitely had his reasons for doing what he did, but Yifan doesn’t listen, doesn’t acknowledge anything he says. He slips on his coat, stuffs his laptop into his briefcase, and leaves the office, ignoring all the eyes on him.

-

In the afternoon that Yifan skips work, he paces the length of his apartment and wonders how he never realized it before.

Yixing and Lay’s obsessive use of emoticons. Yixing and Lay’s similar way of making fun of him. Yixing and Lay’s similar phrases. Yixing’s complete secrecy when it came to his personal life. Yixing always being so curious about Yifan’s article on Lay. Yixing’s consistency to forget to reply to Yifan’s texts. Lay’s tendency to forget to reply to Yifan’s emails. Yixing mentioning he plays the piano. Lay mentioning he played, too. Yixing’s love of classical music and how he listens to it while he writes. Kyungsoo telling Yifan how Lay listens to it all the time, too. Yixing never willing to divulge information on what he was writing about. Yixing being a writer _in the first place_. Yixing mentioning having dinner with his editor and friend a week ago. Lu Han referring to the same dinner with Lay. Yixing’s face when Yifan told him how similar he thought Yixing and Lay are. Yifan now thinks he knows what Yixing had meant to tell him that night.

He thinks back on the first time Yixing talked to him. How Yixing had borrowed a pen with his name on it. How Yixing had mentioned he’d heard Jongdae say his name many times before. How that had been the same day Yifan had first emailed Lay. How Yifan had just talked to Jongdae about Lay minutes before Yixing had come to ask him to borrow a pen.

Yixing, he realizes, knew from the very beginning. And he wonders now if that was the reason Yixing had ever approached him. If Yixing had seen the SM Quarterly text on the side of the pen beneath Yifan’s name and had confirmed his suspicions that the guy who sat a few seats away from him was the same person who had emailed him hours before about an interview with Lay.

Yixing, Yifan realizes, has been lying to him all this time and Yifan never even noticed.

-

It’s hard to avoid someone you don’t really want to. Yifan has gotten so used to spending his evenings with Yixing, used to talking to him through the day with simple silly text messages, used to him staying overnight and waking up in the morning to toes pressed against Yifan’s ankles and his arm splayed over his waist. Yifan doesn’t want to avoid Yixing, but he doesn’t exactly want to see him either, because seeing him right now might make him angrier and more upset than he already is.

He goes to work and he tries to write his article but every time he does he remembers Lu Han telling him that Lay is Yixing, that the person he’s been writing all this time is also his friend. His...boyfriend, Yifan guesses, but they never really put a label on it like that. When he remembers this, he can’t seem to write anymore, the words jumbling up in a tangle of knots, of confusion and uncertainty and disbelief, that he ends up getting nearly nothing done.

“You can’t ignore him forever,” Chanyeol tells him, looking down in amusement at where Yifan is sitting on the floor of his cubicle, half hidden under his desk. He’s party there to hide from Lu Han, who keeps asking him if he’s told Yixing he knows (he hasn’t), and partly because it makes him feel better to wallow, and hiding under a desk is a good place as any to do so. He’s really too big to fit, but Chanyeol works with his feet propped up on the table to give him room, and Yifan is grateful.

“I know,” he says, twirling a pen in his hands. “But what am I supposed to do when I see him? Tell him the truth? Pretend I don’t know?”

“Ask him why he lied to you,” Chanyeol says firmly. “He couldn’t have expected to get away with something like that! How long was he planning to hide it?”

“I think he was trying to tell me,” Yifan says with a sigh, remembering their dinner, remembering the night Yixing came by and insisted that he’d tell Yifan what was on his mind, that he just needed more time. Yifan never considered it’d be something quite like this.

“It doesn’t matter. He should’ve told you the day you guys met,” Chanyeol huffs, and Yifan smiles at him, glad to have a friend who is willing to get upset on his behalf.

“He should have,” Yifan agrees with another sigh. He’s been sighing a lot these days, it seems, thinking about Yixing and Lay and about Yixing and himself and wondering what to do.

He almost hits his head on the underside of the table when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He knows who it is before he even pulls it out, because Yixing has been messaging him almost every hour on the hour, ever since two nights ago when Yifan had stopped answering him.

It’s mean, he knows it’s mean, to ignore him like this, especially when Yifan reads every message and can almost see Yixing’s worried, concerned face in the front of his mind as he asks him how he is and why he hasn’t responded to his calls or his texts, why he hasn’t stopped by the bar the past two nights, why he didn’t answer Yixing’s request to meet up for lunch again earlier that day.

The new message is just like the rest, and Yifan feels his stomach knot unpleasantly as he deletes it. A few minutes later, like Yixing knew what Yifan had done, his phone rings, playing that stupid song Yixing had set for himself, and Yifan throws his phone across the cubicle so he won’t be tempted to answer. It skids across the carpeted floor and hits the corner of Chanyeol’s cubicle.

“I could tell him you died?” Chanyeol suggests helpfully and Yifan laughs at that.

“I don’t think that would help much, really, but thanks,” Yifan says.

“I could tell him you went out of town or something?”

“Again, not helpful.”

They both stare at his phone as it stops ringing, and Yifan slumps under the desk, like the last of his strength has drained out of him. Chanyeol slides off his chair and kneels on the floor by Yifan’s knees, looking under the desk at him.

“You really like him, don’t you?” he asks softly. He pats Yifan’s knee and it’s comforting. “Otherwise this wouldn’t be so difficult.”

Yifan looks at his phone for a few long minutes, wonders how much he’s disappointed Yixing by not answering. He thinks about Yixing, worried over him because Yifan is being selfish about not wanting to talk to him about this. He thinks about Yixing and his kind smiles and his lingering kisses and his warm touch and bright laugh. He thinks about Yixing and how he lied to him and how it makes his heart hurt in ways he never thought possible.

“Yeah,” he says finally, looking back at Chanyeol, and feels his chest tightening like someone is squeezing him with a hundred fingers. “Yeah, I really do.”

-

He makes it three more days. Saturday morning, Yifan wakes to an email from Lay, the first that Lay has ever sent to him without being prompted by Yifan originally.

  
**To:** wufan@smqmagazine.com  
 **From:** callmelay@gmail.com  
 **Sent:** Saturday January 26, 2012 at 8:35 AM

Are you free today around lunch? I’d love to finally be able to meet you!

Yifan reads the email about five times, until he's convinced it’s real and not something he made up in a half-sleep state. And once he _is_ certain that Lay - no, that _Yixing_ \- had asked to meet him, he feels anger curl and hiss like snakes in his belly.

He doesn't answer. Instead he showers, makes himself breakfast, and eats as he watches the news on television. He does his laundry and even tidies up around the house, the kitchen almost sparkling in cleanliness, and then, three hours later, when he’s run out of things to distract himself with, he pulls up the email again. Yixing had emailed him a time and place to meet, the same place, actually, as where they'd had lunch for the first time together, what feels like months ago, now.

Yifan doesn't know what to do. Lay emailing to finally meet him is really Yixing using Lay as a chance to see him again after Yifan started avoiding him. He's sure of that, because what other reason would Lay have to want to meet him now? Maybe Yixing had finally plucked up the courage to tell Yifan the truth. Maybe Yixing figured out that Yifan knew he was Lay. Or maybe Yixing doesn't know at all, and he really _is_ using Yifans desire to meet Lay to see him again.

In the end, though, Yifan realizes no matter what the reason, the point is the same: Yixing wants to see him. And Yifan, underneath the anger and confusion and sadness that's built up in him, wants to see him, too.

He doesn't tell Yixing that he's coming. He just dresses and leaves, remembering the place easily because he's thought about that wonderful afternoon more times than he'd like to admit.

Yixing doesn't notice when he comes in, and he's sitting at a table for two in the corner, his back toward the door. Yifan takes a deep breath before he walks over. Yixing jumps when he reaches out to touch his shoulder, whirling around in his seat, and his smile when he sees Yifan is just as blinding and beautiful as it always was, except it makes Yifan’s heart clench painfully instead of happily.

“Hello Lay," Yifan says, before Yixing has a chance to do anything, and Yifan sees the flash of confusion before the horror of realization as it fills Yixing’s eyes. The smile fades from his face and he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again when words fail him. Yifan drops his hand from his shoulder and steps around to take the other seat at the table. “It’s true, isn’t it?” he asks Yixing, who is practically shocked into silence. “You’re Lay.”

“How,” Yixing starts and then swallows, words seemingly difficult to speak. “How did you find out?”

“Lu Han,” Yifan says, “but it was an accident. He let it slip and then told me the truth. Well, he told me that you were really Lay, but nothing else.”

“He doesn’t know anything else,” Yixing says quickly. “I just wanted him to not tell you about me, but that’s it.”

“So you had him lie for you and you didn’t even tell him why?” Yifan questions and it comes out harsher than he intends, guilt curling in the pit of his stomach when Yixing flinches.

“You’re mad, aren’t you?”

Yifan bristles, and he clenches his hands into fists, fingers scraping at the knees of his jeans under the table. “Of course I’m mad!” he hisses, a little too loud that a couple at the table over turn to him in shock. He ignores it, and adds, “But not about Lu Han. About everything else. The fact that you _lied_ to me--”

“I’m sorry!” Yixing exclaims, cutting across him and looking wide-eyed and vulnerable. He chews on the corner of his mouth. “I really am, Yifan, I never meant for it to go on this long.” His fingers curve around the base of his mug of coffee, thumb rubbing over the handle, up and down in slow motions. His eyes never leave Yifan’s. “I’ve been trying for over a week to figure out how to tell you the truth. Ever since everything between us started to change, I-I knew I couldn’t hide it forever but--”

“You should’ve told me in the first place, Yixing. Or, I don’t know, maybe I should I call you Lay?”

Yixing shakes his head quickly. “No! It’s Yixing. _I’m_ Yixing. That’s who I am, that’s who you know.”

Yifan rakes a hand through his hand and sighs, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. “I don’t know who I know anymore, I really don’t.” When he looks at Yixing again, he wonders what sort of expression is on his face because Yixing looks sadder than he ever did before. “I thought there were two completely different people, you and Lay, and even when something you did reminded me of Lay, I never even considered the possibility that you were the same person. Maybe I was just stupid and didn’t see it--”

“No,” Yixing cuts over him again, and he reaches across the table to grab Yifan’s hand. Yifan tenses and Yixing gives up trying to thread their fingers together after a moment, instead just resting his hand atop of Yifan’s, thumb rubbing over his knuckles gently. It makes Yifan’s chest squeeze around his heart. “You’re not stupid, you weren’t supposed to figure it out. I didn’t want you to think we were the same person, I wanted to be able to tell you that myself.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Yifan demands, pulling his hand back, and ignoring the flash of hurt in Yixing’s eyes. “If Lu Han hadn’t accidentally let it slip, would you have ever told me?”

“Of course I would have!”

Yifan shakes his head because he’s not so sure. “I don’t know, Yixing, I don’t know if I can even believe that,” he says.

“Please, Yifan,” Yixing says, voice barely above a whisper, and Yifan can’t bring himself to look at him anymore. “Please, I’m sorry, I really am, and you can believe me, you _can_.”

Yifan swallows thickly and clenches his eyes shut again. It makes the situation feel less real, when he can’t see Yixing’s fingers reaching out toward him across the table before pulling back, when he can’t see the wretched look on Yixing’s face, when he can’t see the tears forming in his eyes. “I can’t,” he finally says, and he hates how strangled it comes out of his mouth. He clears his throat and tries again, “I can’t, Yixing. How can I believe that now, when you’ve kept one of the biggest things about you hidden all this time?”

He looks up to see Yixing open his mouth and close it again, at a loss for words, and he hangs his head like he understands.

“I’m so sorry,” he says then, and he doesn’t look back up, and Yifan can’t see his face, shielded by his bangs. His shoulders shake, and he’s clenching his hands around his mug so hard Yifan is surprised it hasn’t broken.

Yifan stands, chair scraping across the floor, and it makes Yixing wince. “I know,” Yifan says finally, because he does, and he can see Yixing really means it, that Yixing never wanted it to end up like this. “But I don’t know if I can forgive you for it yet,” he adds, and the words are like pulling teeth. He would so much rather walk around the table and pull Yixing into a hug and tell him it’s okay, that they’re okay, but he can’t. He really can’t. “And, until I can, I...I don’t think we should see each other.”

Yixing just nods, hair flopping into his face, and Yifan’s heart is stuck in his throat. For a second, he contemplates reaching out to touch his shoulder, to make him stop shaking, but he thinks better of it and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“Bye, Yixing,” he says quietly, and he leaves.

-

“I can’t write it anymore,” Yifan says, slumping into a chair in the break room.

“Write what?” Lu Han questions, opening cupboards to look for a mug.

“The Lay article,” Yifan says, internally wincing just thinking about it. “I’ve tried the past few days to just finish it, but I can’t. I’m stuck. I’m more than stuck. I can’t write it anymore. I can barely look at it.”

“If you’re not going to write it, who the fuck is supposed to?” Lu Han demands, then cheers happily when he finally finds a mug in the cupboard above the sink. He walks around Yifan who’s seated at the counter to the coffee machine and fills his mug. “You’re the only one who can finish it. You said you were close.”

“I am close. But that was before, well. You know.” Yifan sighs, waves a hand in the air as if that explains what he’s trying to say. Lu Han’s stern expression softens a bit, so it must have worked.

“I get that, I do,” he says. “But you can’t just tell me you can’t write it anymore. This is supposed to be the feature article for our next issue.”

Yifan groans, puts his hands in his hair, elbows resting on the countertop. “Lu Han,” he says helplessly, “how am I supposed to write about someone who has been lying to me the entire time I’ve known him?”

“Well, technically, _Lay_ never lied to you,” Lu Han points out before taking a sip of his drink and sitting down at the counter across from Yifan.

“Not funny,” Yifan mutters darkly. “And you know what I mean. You were in on the whole thing too.”

“Are you mad at me also?” Lu Han asks, and he gives Yifan that angelic look that he uses with Minseok and Sehun to get his way. Thankfully Yifan is wallowing too much to let it really affect him.

“Yes,” he says at first, but when Lu Han pouts, he amends, “Okay, fine, no.” He really isn’t, anyway. “I wish you would’ve told me, though.”

“He made me swear not to,” Lu Han defends. “And I didn’t even know until you guys started like dating or whatever. I had no idea you’d been hanging out for awhile before then.”

Yifan eyes him warily for a moment, but realizes Lu Han is really telling the truth. He sighs heavily and slumps down, burying his face into his arms upon the countertop. He can feel Lu Han staring at him in concern and Yifan knows he’s probably being a bit melodramatic about the whole thing. He’s an adult. He can do this. He can. Even if it hurts him to think about it, he can get through it.

“Hey,” Lu Han says, poking Yifan in the head until he turns to look at him. “Let me ask you this...do you love him? Yixing?”

Yifan sits up straight quickly, not expecting that question, but Lu Han doesn’t look like he’s teasing, expression dead serious. He swallows. He doesn’t really have to think about it. “I don’t know if I _love_ him, I mean we’ve only been on like two dates, and been friends for a few weeks. But, I could.” He drops his gaze from Lu Han’s eyes which grow suddenly fond as he speaks and embarrassment sweeps up the back of his neck in a deep flush. “I do really, really like him Lu Han.”

Lu Han grins widely, pleased. “He really, really likes you, too. No, seriously. I know him lying to you has made you question it, and rightfully so, it wasn't the smartest thing to do. But he really, really likes you.”

Yifan is stumped. “Then what do I do?” he asks, and it comes out like a whine.

“You go talk to him, you idiot,” Lu Han says like he’s an idiot, but Yifan is willing to agree that when it comes to this sort of thing, he probably is. “From what I’ve gathered you didn't even let him explain why he did this. He has reasons, Yifan, he wasn't try to fuck you over. And, if after you hear what he says and you still really, _really_ like him, then fucking kiss him and make up. I can't believe I have to tell you these guys these things!” He shakes his head exasperatedly, but Yifan blinks at him.

“...You mean, you gave Yixing similar advice?”

“Of course! He’s just as hopeless as you. You're perfect for each other!”

Yifan flushes at that, but somehow he feels a lot better. He slides off the stool and grabs a muffin from the box that Baekhyun brought in that morning. “Thanks, Lu Han,” he says earnestly, and Lu Han just beams, before he suddenly narrows his eyes and points at Yifan’s face.

“But you still have to write that article, I expect it on my desk by next week!” he shouts after Yifan, who just waves a hand up in acknowledgement.

-

The one thing that is keeping Yifan from finishing this article is the thing he still wants the most: interviewing Lay in person.

The problem is that he is a coward. He’s certain without a doubt that if he called Yixing now he would answer within seconds, but he doesn’t know if he can see him again after how things went the last time. The sadness in his eyes, his shaking shoulders, and the silent nod as he agreed to not seeing each other anymore, Yifan sees all of in his mind over and over again whenever he has a moment to spare. He doesn’t think he could stand to meet Yixing again, remembering all of that, and it doesn’t help that Yifan still feels despair in the pit of his stomach, continuing to linger even as the days go on.

But in the end, he has a job to do, and that should come before any relationship. Or so he convinces himself enough that, finally, two days before his deadline, he gives in and calls Yixing.

Yifan feels his belly drop slowly to his knees as the phone rings three times before Yixing answers, sounding incredibly hesitant as he says, “Hello?”

“Yixing,” Yifan says quietly, “It’s um, it’s Yifan.”

“Hi,” he says carefully, like he’s walking on eggshells and Yifan clenches his eyes shut tight, hates that it’s come to this point, but this is the first time they’ve talked to each other in five days. “How...How’re you?”

“Tired,” Yifan says without thinking, and mentally curses himself for the admission. He’d like to tell Yixing he’s doing just fine, that things are great, but that would be so far from the truth it’s as though his subconscious just spoke for him before he could tell a lie that would only make himself - and Yixing - feel terrible. “I’ve been working nonstop on my article,” he explains, then asks, “And you?”

“I’m okay,” Yixing says, but he doesn’t sound okay at all. “Tired, too. Kyungsoo’s been hounding me with draft edits.”

Yifan laughs softly, he’s pretty sure that will be him and Lu Han in a few days time.

“Yifan,” Yixing says, suddenly, “w-why did you call?”

Swallowing thickly, Yifan says, “Right. I, well, I wanted to ask you something.” He pauses and takes a deep breath, chest rising and falling, and straightens his back as he grows more determined. “Well, you see, I have to finish this article on a really famous writer, and I’d really, really love to interview him in person.”

There’s silence on the other end for a few long seconds but then Yixing is laughing, and the sound is so pleasant, so satisfying after so long without hearing it, that Yifan finds himself grinning like he hasn’t in days. Suddenly everything feels lighter.

“Oh really?” Yixing asks, and the playful lilt Yifan has gotten so used to is back in his voice. “Anyone I know?”

“I think you might be acquainted,” Yifan says sagely, and Yixing’s quiet chuckle gives him the strength to plow forward. “Do you think we could meet today if that’s possible? I have two days until my deadline.”

“Cutting it close there,” Yixing says, and Yifan almost mutters back that it’s not exactly his fault, but catches himself in time. He doesn’t think that would help either of them much.

“So are you free?” he asks instead.

“Yeah,” Yixing says and Yifan heaves a sigh of relief. “When and where?”

They work out the details and Yixing says, “See you later, Yifan,” before hanging up and Yifan slumps back against the couch and tries not to think about how much he misses hearing Yixing say his name.

But he pushes that thought aside for now and quickly gathers up his laptop, all of the emails from Lay he’s printed out, and stuffs them into his briefcase so he can meet with Yixing and get this all over with.

Yixing is already seated at a small table by the door of the coffee shop they agreed on meeting at, and Yifan slides into the seat across from him with a sigh, uncurling his scarf from his neck and trying not to meet Yixing’s eye.

“That’s a good look for you,” Yixing says, gesturing to Yifan’s upper lip, and Yifan blinks at him, reaches out to touch his face, and groans. Yixing laughs, eyes bright in mischief, and Yifan’s chest feels hot just from the sound of his voice.

“Oh god,” he says, embarrassed, “I forgot to shave, I haven’t been out of the apartment all weekend.”

“Finishing up your article?” Yixing asks.

“Yes, this is really the final piece,” Yifan replies, finally looking at him fully. Yixing stares back with an expression he can’t quite decipher, the brightness in his eyes faded out and replaced by a sort of emptiness that reminds Yifan of the last time they were together like this. He sets his scarf down onto the table, clearing his throat before he adds, “Regardless of what happened, you are a writer I really admire and I want to be able to do this article justice.”

Yixing gives him a wistful smile. “I understand,” he says. “Strickly professional.” He laughs and sits up straight, pulls at the laps of his deep blue blazer, and Yifan laughs, too.

“Yeah, just professional,” he agrees and dutifully ignores the pang in his chest.

They head up to order drinks at the counter before getting to business, Yifan pulling out his laptop to take notes and record the interview. And it’s surprisingly easy, Yifan is pleased to realize, that they just fall back together like the very first days when they met, conversing amiably about a variety of things. Yifan asks him more long-winded questions that he couldn’t in his emails, and has Yixing flesh out answers for things he’s already talked about.

It feels a bit like he’s meeting Yixing for the first time, even if most of what he’s talking about is about Lay and about work, everything is new to Yifan and he hangs onto each word like he can’t get enough. Yixing talks happily about things he says he’s never really talked to anyone about before, outside of his close family and his editor.

“So you really should be honored, you know,” Yixing teases. “Being the first one to do this.”

Yifan laughs. “I am,” he says. “When Lu Han gave me the project, I just about jumped with joy.”

“You’re so cute,” Yixing says, and in the next second his eyes grow big and he drops his gaze, busying himself with slicing a piece out of his tiramisu and bring the fork to his lips.

Yifan’s stomach drops a bit, remembering so many other times when Yixing had said the same thing, except now it’s clear that Yixing spoke without thinking. He clears his throat and asks, “What made you decide to use a pen name instead of your real name?”

Yixing looks at him gratefully for the change in topic and takes another bite of his cake, sucking softly around the fork as he thinks, and Yifan stomps down on the thought of how cute he looks, how much he would like to just reach across the table and hold his hand.

Instead he just waits patiently as Yixing thinks, turning his attention to his computer screen and editing a few lines of notes for better clarity. When he hears the clink of metal against porcelain, he looks back up and Yixing says, “It wasn’t something I had planned to do from the beginning, but as I wrote more and more, and once I met Kyungsoo and started working with him, the idea became more appealing.”

“Did you decide yourself?” Yifan asks.

Yixing nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Kyungsoo told me to do whatever was more comfortable for me, but he thought the pen name would be good if we worked it well. An ambiguous pen name like ‘Lay’ isn’t exactly gender specific or targets a certain group of people, so it would draw in just about anyone who was interested in the work itself.”

“That makes sense,” Yifan says.

“In the end, I guess I wanted to keep things separate, my personal life and my work life. Using a pen name means that when I meet people for the first time, they won’t immediately associate me with my work,” he explains, and he looks up to meet Yifan’s eyes for a long, lingering moment before glancing away. He swallows and rubs his thumb over the rim of his coffee mug and it reminds Yifan of the last time they met, too. “It’s not that I want to hide what I do, but being able to be separate from my work is something I really wanted, and something I still very much am glad that I have. Not everyone can do that, and I like that my work doesn’t immediately define who I am.”

Yifan stares at him, considering, his words echoing around in his head. He remembers what Lu Han had told him the other day, how Yixing has his reasons for keeping the fact that he is Lay a secret. He remembers all the times Yixing had deflected Yifan’s inquires about his work. Yifan had figured it was because he just didn’t want him to know he was Lay, but now, after hearing what Yixing just said, maybe it’s not just that. Maybe Yixing knew just how much Yifan was a fan of Lay’s work and didn’t want to change anything between them by revealing that he was Lay. Maybe he wasn’t ready to share that part of his life with Yifan. Maybe he needed the courage to tell Yifan the truth, and that it was never something he wanted to lie about, but just something he’s always kept hidden until he was willing to share.

Maybe Yifan is an idiot for never thinking about any of this from Yixing’s point of view.

“Yifan?” Yixing asks, concern laced in his voice, and he waves a hand before Yifan’s face, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Are you all right?”

Yifan nods quickly, throat a little tight to speak as his mind spins from Yixing’s words and his own realizations. He looks away from Yixing’s worried eyes and takes a drink of his black coffee, pushes the runaway thoughts in his head to the side and focuses back on the interview. Clearing his throat, he asks, “So then the whole mysterious writer aura, was that your idea, too?”

“I think that just sort of happened on it’s own,” Yixing says with a soft laugh. “I had been called in to do interviews for previous magazines and talk shows, but things would come up at last minute and I’d have to cancel, or sometimes I’d just forget and sleep through the meeting time.” He laughs again, rubbing the side of his face, and Yifan smiles, remembering himself Yixing’s terrible forgetfulness.

“Some things you can’t help, huh?” he teases and Yixing reaches out to swat at his hand. Yifan’s skin burns where Yixing touches him, but he keeps his expression cool as Yixing pulls his hand away quickly, tucking it onto his lap beneath the table.

“But anyway,” he says, “a reviewer wrote an article about one of my anthologies and mentioned how it was so hard to get in touch with me or interview me, and soon the whole _mysterious writer_ thing became attached to my name.” He shrugs. “I like it though, it keeps people from being too nosy.” He smiles at Yifan. “I like writing, but I don’t always like the attention.”

Yifan nods, quickly types up a few more notes about the matter and then asks, “Why did you agree to this interview?”

“Lu Han is really annoying,” Yixing says, very seriously, and it startles a laugh out of Yifan, who hides his face behind a hand as he chuckles. He sees the way it makes Yixing’s eyes soften in what can only be affection, grin spreading across his face as he watches Yifan’s laugh and gives in, too, and it’s been so long since he’s seen him like this, so carefree and beautiful, that Yifan’s heart feels like it might burst out of his chest, the way it’s beating so hard.

“You’ve got that right,” he finally manages to reply when their laughter dies down. There is a group of young teens a few tables away looking at them strangely, but Yifan doesn’t care. Once again, he feels so light.

“Joking aside, though,” Yixing says, “I thought it would be nice to do at least _one_ interview, give people some answers. And it’s good publicity, as Kyungsoo always likes to remind me. Seeing as how we’re releasing a new book soon, it was good timing.”

“No regrets then?” Yifan asks, mostly teasingly, but Yixing looks straight at him, the mirth in his eyes from earlier a little frayed, but still there, lingering bright around the edges, and his smile is as soft and warm as ever.

“No regrets,” he says, and Yifan, despite everything, falls a little deeper.

-

“I can’t believe you called to ask me if Yixing was here before coming by,” Jongdae says, giving Yifan an unimpressed look, arms crossed over his shoulders.

“I have no choice,” Yifan says. “I can’t see him right now, and I really wanted a drink.”

“Seeing as how you haven’t been here for like a week, I figured you finally had found a better bar,” Jongdae says.

Yifan just shakes his head. “Nope,” he replies, “unless buying cans at the supermarket and drinking at home counts as _better bar_.”

“Definitely not,” Jongdae says firmly. He grabs a beer for Yifan and hands it to him, and Yifan takes it gratefully.

“Thanks,” he says. “And for not lying about Yixing not being here, because I almost expected you to.”

“Would I?” Jongdae says with mock innocence, placing a hand over his heart like Yifan just said something offensive.

“Yes,” Yifan answers without hesitation and Jongdae drops his hand and narrows his eyes at him. Yifan laughs. “But really, though. Thanks.”

Jongdae shrugs, rubs the back of his head. “I don’t know everything that’s happened between the two of you, but it’s not my place to weasel in and make it better,” he says.

Yifan gives him a grateful smile and takes a long swig out of his beer bottle. “And that’s why I come back here,” he laughs.

“Admit it, you missed me,” Jongdae teases and Yifan rolls his eyes.

“I missed Zitao,” he answers easily, waving at Zitao when he looks over at hearing his name.

“Asshole,” Jongdae mutters, “I’m charging you extra for that. How Yixing even likes you is beyond me.”

Yifan winces slightly because even though he had just meet with Yixing two days ago, hearing Yixing’s name is still a bit like picking at a scab that hasn’t fully healed yet. He knows that’s pretty pathetic, but he can’t help the instinctive reaction. He takes another drink of his bottle and sets it down.

“Sorry,” Jongdae says, seemingly noticing his change in demeanor. “I won’t talk about him if it bugs you.”

“It’s fine. It doesn’t bug me. It’s just...” He sighs, because he doesn’t really know what it is at all. “It’s just hard,” he finishes lamely but Jongdae shakes his head, looking sympathetic. “I think it’s even harder now than it was before, after I met him the other day. There’s still this weirdness between us, but we still got along so easily and we parted amicably, no hard feelings or anything.”

“That’s good, though, isn’t it?” Jongdae asks, and when Yifan nods, he punches him half-heartedly on the shoulder. “Then why do you look like someone kicked you?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Yifan says. “I know I don’t want things to stay the way they are, and I know I should really talk to him about it--”

“Then what the fuck are you waiting for?” Jongdae cuts in, smacking his hand onto the countertop and startling Yifan. He blinks at him in surprise, eyes wide, and Jongdae looks sheepish for a moment before he narrows his eyes. “If you know what you have to do, then go _do it_ and stop whining.”

“But--”

“I wasn’t going to say anything but you know, he _has_ been coming here everyday, looking up every time the door opens and I can tell that he hopes it’s you.”

That doesn’t make Yifan feel any better and he groans, “I thought you just said you didn’t want to get in between all this.”

“I don’t, but I also thought you cared about him enough to not make him suffer any longer,” he says. “And I can tell just by looking at you that you’re pretty miserable, too.”

Yifan sighs, looking down at the countertop, his shoulders slumping because Jongdae is right. He is pretty miserable. He’s actually a lot miserable, and each day that goes by seems to make him even more so. After his interview with Yixing, Yifan hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what he told him. They didn’t talk about what has happened between them, they didn’t bring up Yixing’s lie or how Yifan said he couldn’t forgive him, they didn’t make plans to meet up again. Yifan just thanked him for his time and they went their separate ways, and it’d been hard for Yifan not to pick up his phone after that and call him and tell him that everything was okay.

He’s not sure if everything is okay. He’s not even sure if he completely forgives Yixing for hiding something so big from him all this time. But, he can’t deny that after talking to Yixing, after hearing what he had to say about it, even if he wasn’t exactly talking about what happened between them, that Yifan isn’t so angry anymore. Instead, he’s just lost.

“I don’t know what to say,” Yifan admits finally, and it’s true. For someone who spends all day writing, Yifan thinks he could work on his speaking skills, even a little bit. It’s never been this difficult for him to say what’s on his mind, but with Yixing, well, he doesn’t want to make things worse than they already are. He sighs and adds, “And besides, I’ve been busy. Lu Han’s been on my ass to get me to finish the article on Lay on time.”

“Did you?” Jongdae asks curiously and Yifan nods.

“Yeah, last night,” he says. “Waiting for edits but it should be up on the stands with the issue next week.”

“That’s great,” Jongdae says. “At least something is going right, huh?”

Yifan chuckles, raising his bottle up at him before taking a swig. “You got that right,” he says, but it comes out much less enthusiastic than he intended and Jongdae reaches out to pat his shoulder comfortingly.

“You’ll figure it out,” he says, before offering Yifan a small smile and heading off to tend to the rest of the bar.

“I hope so,” Yifan murmurs to himself, because his world still feels like it’s falling apart.

-

There is always this sense of accomplishment after a project is finished, after it’s reviewed and edited, after it’s printed on glossy paper and stuck onto the stands at the nearest bookstore or convenience market.

Yifan feels the weight on his shoulders fade away after the Lay article is published, but that familiar excitement of accomplishment doesn’t hit him like it usually does. Instead, without the constant worry about getting everything written on time to focus on, the only thing he has left is the ruins of his relationship with Yixing, broken little pieces that he seems to cut himself on everyday.

He knows it should be easy to just pick up the phone and call him, talk to him, just see him again, because he’s amazed at how much he misses him, misses his smile and the cute dimple in his cheek, the sound of his laugh and the way his smaller hand fit so perfectly in his. He misses talking to him about work and about life, misses Yixing’s soft laughter and his usual forgetfulness, misses his stupid text messages with one too many emoticons, and the way Yifan’s heart raced so fast when he kissed him.

“Aren’t you just being stubborn?” Chanyeol says when Yifan caves and tells him everything. Chanyeol laughed for about ten minutes about it, first, which made Yifan regret telling him anything, but in the end, he felt better getting it off his chest. “ _You miss him_ , clearly this means you’ve basically forgiven him.”

“Those things are not mutually exclusive,” Yifan refutes. “I can miss him and still be angry.”

“But you’re not angry. You’re a whiny baby,” Chanyeol points out and Yifan opens his mouth to argue, but when Chanyeol raises a brow at him, he slowly realizes he might have a point.

“Okay, _fine_ ,” he says. “Maybe I am being stubborn.”

“Then get your head out of your ass and _go see him_ ,” Chanyeol says, punching his shoulder, hard, like that will help Yifan get the message.

But when he finds himself at Yixing's apartment later that evening, he guesses maybe it did. Yixing looks surprised to find him there, blinking as he leans against the door to keep it open.

"Sorry,” Yifan says quickly. “I asked Lu Han for your address. I would've just called but I was afraid you didn't want to see me or something.”

"Why would I not want to see you?" Yixing says, and he looks a little wounded at the assumption.

"In case you've gotten tired of waiting to hear from me," Yifan says, scratching the back of his neck, and it’s true, he has been worried about that for awhile, wondering if the longer he waits to get over this, the easier it will be for Yixing to just move on.

Yixing shakes his head. "Never," he says sincerely, and Yifan sighs with relief. He smiles up at him and says, "Come on in," and waves him inside.

Yifan follows, slipping out of his shoes in the entryway and undoing the buttons on his coat. Yixing takes it from him and disappears to put it into the closet in the hall. Yifan takes the time to look around, never having been there before. His apartment is larger than Yifan’s but feels a little less lived in. There’s a large work table along the wall opposite the deep red leather couch, full of stacks of papers and bound manuscripts, slipping and falling off the edge onto a scattered pile across the floor and onto the seat of a nice leather work chair. Two bookcases stand beside it, filled to the brim with texts much like Yifan’s own, and when he goes to investigate, he finds copies Yixing’s own novels on the bottom shelf, and a variety of other books, everything from Han Han’s Triple Door to translated copies of Harry Potter.

He finds SM Quarterly magazines stacked on one of the shelves, blue post-its sticking out of the edges. He pulls the top one off the stack and flips to a marked page, finds that it’s one of his own articles, one that was published over a month ago about a popular international cafe that had opened up in Myeongdong. He closes the cover and puts it back.

“I got a bunch of old issues from Lu Han after you emailed me the first time,” Yixing says, appearing beside him. “I’d read some of them before, but I wanted to see what you’d done.”

“Did that help you decide whether to agree to do the interview?” Yifan asks.

Yixing shakes his head. “No, it really had nothing to do with that,” he replies. “As a writer, I was just curious.”

“You never mentioned you’d read my articles,” Yifan says.

“Well, you know me and my tendency for keeping secrets,” Yixing says easily and Yifan laughs, shaking his head.

“Speaking of secrets...” he teases, but immediately wants to take it back at the look of guilt that fills Yixing’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Yixing says quickly, but Yifan puts a hand up to stop him from saying anything more. When Yixing closes his mouth, looking a little chastised, Yifan offers him a small, reassuring smile, before heading toward the couch to sit down.

“It’s okay, Yixing,” he says, when Yixing seems to hesitate between joining him and bolting. “I didn’t come here to have you apologize over and over. I’m not angry anymore.”

Those words seem to be all it takes for Yixing to deflate, the tension in his shoulders easing away and the guilt in his face replacing with uncertainty. “You’re not?” he asks quietly, walking around the coffee table to join Yifan on the couch. He keeps a good foot of space between them and Yifan wants to scoot closer, but keeps still instead.

He shakes his head and says, “I wouldn’t be here if I was. If I was that angry, I don’t think I could’ve ever asked you for that interview. I’m still upset, but you can’t really blame me for that.”

Yixing chuckles, leaning back against the couch and looking down at his lap. He plays with a small fray at the hem of his knitted blue sweater. “No, I can’t,” he says, “and to be honest, after everything, I thought _you_ never wanted to see me again.”

“Never,” Yifan replies instantly, repeating Yixing’s earlier statement, but mostly because it’s true, that thought didn’t once cross his mind. His quick answer pulls a happy, pleased smile from Yixing, even if he still won’t look up at him. “Look, I came by because, well, after what you told me during our interview, how you wanted to keep Lay separate from your personal life...I guess. I guess I started to understand, a bit, why you did what you did.”

“But not even that justifies everything, Yifan,” Yixing says, voice low and laced with worry. “I know I fucked up, I knew I should’ve told you so much sooner, I--”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Yixing is quiet for a long moment, raising a hand to bite on his thumbnail like he usually does as he thinks, and the familiar action is so comforting to see. “I think...I think I was just scared,” Yixing finally says, glancing up at Yifan to gauge his reaction, but Yifan only stares at him curiously, waits for him to continue. Yixing looks back down. "Other than my family, there are very few people who know that I am Lay, and most of them either knew from the very beginning, like Lu Han, or are people I've met because of work, like Kyungsoo. Even my past relationships, they've always been people who knew me as Lay before they knew me as Yixing, other writers and artists. But you..."

Yifan watching him unblinkingly, heart racing in his chest. "Yeah?"

Yixing takes a deep breath and turns to him fully now, shifting on the couch so he's sitting sideways, resting his arm atop the back. "You were different," he says, and a smile pulls at his lips. "I might have talked to you at first because of your email, because I figured out you were the same Yifan who was supposed to interview me, but the coincidence that you _happened_ to be the cute blonde sitting at the bar just a few seats away...I don't know, I thought it was too good to be true." He chuckles, dropping his head a bit, hair flopping into his face and Yifan resists the urge to reach out and brush it away. When he looks back up, he’s still smiling. "You were different because you didn't push, you didn't try to weasel my profession out of me, you were interested in _me_ , just as Yixing."

"I could've been interested in you as Yixing _and_ Lay, if you had given me that chance," Yifan says softly, but there’s Yixing’s words burn hot under his skin, spreading out in his chest with every inhale and exhale. Hearing his reasoning and slowly understanding, it’s making everything so much clearer.

Yixing swallows, nods. "I know," he says. "I believe that. But I think that because I knew how much you liked my books, _Lay’s books_ , that I was worried what you’d think when you realized Lay was just me. I didn’t want that to change anything.”

“Yixing,” Yifan laughs, “I think a lot has changed already.”

Yixing stares at him for a moment before his face contorts into frustration and he hides behind his hands with a grown. “I _know_ ,” he mutters, sounding rather wretched, but Yifan just finds his reaction impossibly adorable. “I shouldn’t have done what I did, I shouldn’t have let it go on for so long. I’m sorry, Yifan, I really am.”

“Hey,” Yifan says, and he finally reaches out to tug on Yixing’s wrists, pulling his hands away from his face so he can look at him. “It’s okay,” he says, and it really is. “I understand. I do.”

Yixing lets out a shaky breath, somewhere between a sigh of relief and incredulous laughter. He looks at Yifan like he’s never quite met anyone like him before. He rubs his thumb over Yifan’s knuckles, slowly pulling his hands to his lap. “Maybe,” he says carefully, “Maybe we can start all of this over?” He stares at their hands instead of at Yifan’s face, and Yifan shakes his head automatically even though Yixing can’t see.

“I don’t want to start over,” he says firmly. He gives Yixing’s hands a soft squeeze, enough to drag his attention back up to him. “I don’t want to pretend like everything we’ve been through already isn’t important.”

Yixing grins at him, a real, big grin, that shows off his dimple and curves his eyes, the smile that Yifan loves so much. “You can be so cheesy sometimes, Yifan, have I told you that before?” he says lightly.

Yifan narrows his eyes, yanks his hands away from Yixing in mock offense. “Yes.”

“Hm, clearly not enough if you keep saying lame things,” Yixing continues teasing, but Yifan knows him, knows he’s pleased, knows that he doesn’t really want to start anything over, knows that he’s happy Yifan doesn’t, either.

“Hey!” Yifan says. “I’m trying to make things better here.”

Yixing smiles at him and closes the distance between them, finally, sliding over on the couch until his shoulder presses up to Yifan’s and their knees bump. He reaches out and takes back Yifan’s right hand, sliding his fingers across his palm and linking them with his own. Yifan swallows thickly just watching, feels the warmth from Yixing’s touch spread out through his veins.

“I think everything already is better,” Yixing says, dropping his head onto Yifan’s shoulder and Yifan can’t help but reply, “About time.”

-

“Hey,” Yixing says as he joins Yifan at the bar, fingers sliding across his back as he drops his things onto the counter and leans in to kiss Yifan softly on the mouth. He grins when he pulls back and Yifan returns it embarrassedly, heat blooming on his cheeks even though he really should be used to this by now. Yixing clearly finds it amusing though, laughing at the expression on his face as he settles into the set on Yifan’s right.

“If you guys keep making out every night, you’re gonna have to find another bar because I’ll kick you out,” Jongdae says coming up to take Yixing’s order.

“If we didn’t come here everyday, you’d be out of the job,” Yixing retorts easily.

“And you’d have no one to constantly eavesdrop on,” Yifan adds and Jongdae glares at them both.

“You two are even worse together,” Jongdae says, sounding pained, and Yixing just laughs, asks for a beer when Jongdae turns to him. He retrieves it for him, then looks between them, and the annoyance in his eyes from earlier has faded away, a pleased smile tugging at his lips. “But, I am glad you’ve worked things out. Watching the two of you mope around was not something I signed up for.”

“Go and bug someone else,” Yifan says, waving a hand at him dismissively and Jongdae cackles but leaves with a parting, “But if I catch you sucking face again, I swear I’ll kick you out!”

Yifan rolls his eyes and Yixing chuckles before taking a drink out of his bottle. He sets it down onto the folded square napkin and suddenly exclaims, “Oh! I almost forgot!”

Curious, Yifan sits back and watches as Yixing fishes something out of the new MCM bag he’d bought the other day they went shopping together after lunch, and Yifan chokes on his own beer when Yixing smacks down the issue of SM Quarterly, opened up to Yifan’s article.

“I went and bought it today,” Yixing says cheerfully.

Yifan groans, mutters, “I kind of hoped you’d never read it.”

“Why?” Yixing says, tilting his head to the side and blinking.

“I don’t know. It’s just weird, now, after everything...”

“Don’t be stupid, Yifan,” Yixing says, looking down at the page almost fondly. “Well, I haven’t read the whole thing yet, but as long as you didn’t put in some giant confession of love, I’m sure it’s not that terrible.”

Yifan chokes on his drink again and Yixing turns to him quickly. “Did you?” he asks and Yifan shakes his head, exclaims, “No! Of course not!” but realizes when he sees the spark of amusement in Yixing’s eyes that he’s just kidding. He sighs, setting his bottle down and poking Yixing in the chest. “Don’t do that,” he whines.

Giggling, Yixing just reaches out and squeezes his hand. “I’ve told you that you make it so easy,” he says.

“Still doesn’t give you permission.”

“I’m your boyfriend, I can do whatever I want,” he says, matter-of-fact, and Yifan’s heart does that funny little flop it’s started doing every time anyone refers to Yixing as his boyfriend.

He tries to ignore it and instead clears his throat and asks tentatively, “Did you like it?”

Yixing nods, runs his fingers down the page. “It’s good. Really good,” he says. “You’re a good writer, but I already knew that.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Yixing,” Yifan says seriously, but mostly to hide his embarrassment.

Yixing just smirks, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” he says, leaning in close so that’s whispering into Yifan’s ear. “Do you want to test that?”

Yifan shoves at him so hard that Yixing almost falls off his barstool, but he laughs about it good-naturedly, catching himself on the counter and pulling himself back up. “Maybe later,” Yifan answers him after a moment, and Yixing grins.

“I really am glad it was you,” he says, picking up the magazine too look at it more closely. “Though, it’d would’ve been better if you’d left out that part about the constant forgetfulness or the way I write my emails, I mean I don’t want to tarnish my reputation here, and oh my god, where did you get that picture--”

“Yixing,” Yifan cuts over him, and Yixing mutters a, “What?” before Yifan is tugging the magazine from his hands and then tugging him close by the collar of his shirt. “Shut up,” he says, and catches Yixing’s lips in a kiss.


End file.
